







































Class P* Z-3 

Book 3 Xj^L, 

Copyiight N° 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 






















% 


9 


r 







THE 

LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


MARIA ALBANESI 

|l 

Author of “ I Know a Maiden ” “ A Little 
Brown Maiden ” “ Susannah and 
One Other,” etc . 


NEW YORK 

THE CUPPLES & LEON CO. 

PUBLISHERS 



<9 V 


i ^ 





LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
1 wo Conies rtectivtrt! 


JUN 24 1908 



CLASS/* AXc. No. 

f c 5 

COHY 8. 


Copyright, 1908, by 
MARIA ALBANESI 

Entered at Stationers' Hall 

All rights reserved 


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The Laughter of Life 


CHAPTER i 

Drusilla Heronworth paused when she got 
to the bend in the staircase and stood looking 
down on her sister with a faint smile on her lips. 
She was dressed for walking, and wore the most 
bewitching toque of sable, with a real gardenia 
pinned in it. There was a sable stole thrown 
loosely about her shoulders. She watched her 
sister moving slowly about the hall. Bertha 
Heronworth walked with a slight limp. 

A large tray filled with vases of flowers had 
been brought in and placed on one of the tables, 
and Miss Heronworth was putting these vases in 
different corners. 

The hall was a low-roofed, square-shaped 
apartment, having about it something of a farm- 
house look. It was furnished in a comfortable, 
homely kind of a way, and though not used ex- 
actly as a living-room, possessed many comfort- 
able chairs, and at least one seductive corner, 
where one could read or work, or sleep most 
peacefully. 

“You always put the flowers just where they 
ought to go,” said Drusilla. “ That bit of pink 
on your writing-desk is simply lovely, Beth, and 
oh — ” with an appreciative sniff — “how sweet 
something smells! What is it?” 


6 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

The elder sister looked up at that charming 
figure leaning over the balustrade. 

“ So, after all, you are going out,” she said. 

Drusilla answered: 

“ Yes, after all, I am going out. I don’t want 
to go one little bit, but I feel that if I don’t have 
a walk at least once every day I shall get so fat.” 
She gave a little sigh; then she said: “Beth, I’m 
ever so happy! I can’t begin to tell you how 
happy I am.” 

Bertha Heronworth picked up some splendid 
specimen chrysanthemums and rearranged 
them in the tall glass vase. 

“ It is very cold this morning,” she said, “ and 
very damp. I hope you have on thick boots, 
Drusilla.” 

Drusilla laughed. 

“Oh! Beth, prosaic Beth! I discourse to 
you about happiness and you talk about my 
boots.” 

In the same breath she said: “ Those specimen 
chrysanthemums are very magnificent, I sup- 
pose, but I don’t care a pin about them, they are 
so grand and so artificial. Chrysanthemums 
always remind me of Aunt Edith.” 

“Where are you going?” asked her sister. 

Drusilla shrugged her shoulders. 

“I have no plan; I shall just wander unless 
you have something you want me to do.” 

“Well, if you are only going for a walk, will 
you leave this note at the Rectory, and some 
papers for me at the Cottage Hospital? I always 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


7 


send all the light literature there; it is so much 
appreciated.” 

Drusilla made a grimace and then said : 

“Yes, I don’t mind. Must I go in?” 

“They would be very glad to see you,” said 
Bertha; “but don’t bother, if you would rather 
not; just leave the papers at the gate.” 

Drusilla came down the last of the stairs very 
slowly. 

“Really and truly, there is no place like 
home,” she observed. “ After having been in all 
sorts of other people’s houses, I am in a position 
to assert this positively. Beth, I shall never, 
never, never go away again!” 

Bertha Heronworth laughed at this. 

She turned and came across to her sister, and 
firstly she felt the sleeve of Drusilla’s coat, and 
then she stooped and examined the sole of the 
very smart little boot which peeped from under 
the serge skirt. 

There was not the smallest point of resemblance 
between the sisters. Although there was un- 
doubted character in the face of the elder Miss 
Heronworth and a certain sweetness and charm 
in her expression, she was not what is even called 
good-looking ; her one beauty was perhaps her 
hair, which was most abundant, and she had a 
particularly agreeable voice, a quality shared by 
Drusilla. 

As she stooped to assure herself that her sister 
was sensibly shod, the other girl patted her 
smooth head. 


8 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“Darling,” she said, “you don’t know — you 
can’t even imagine — how I have longed to be 
back with you! ” 

There was a flush on Bertha Heronworth’s 
face. 

“ I wonder? ” she queried, “ I wonder if that is 
really true, or only just one of your pretty 
‘Drusilla’ speeches?” Then she drew the girl 
nearer to her and kissed her tenderly. “ At any 
rate,” she said, “I am glad to have you here once 
again. The weeks you were away seemed like 
years, Drusilla. I am only afraid that you will 
feel dull. We must get some people here ; people 
you like.” 

Drusilla flung down her big sable muff and 
began to pull on her gloves. 

“ Oh! I want to be dull; life has been going at 
such a pace lately. I feel as if I had weeks of 
sleep to make up. At Braske, you know, they 
never go to bed till two or three o’clock; no 
chance of beauty sleep there. Do you know what 
Catherine said to me this morning when she 
brought me my tea? ‘ Law, Miss Drusilla, you’re 
growing quite hagged; you look every bit of 
forty, that you do ! ’ ” 

Then she laughed. 

“Is it* true?” she asked. “Have I lost my 
looks? Would you take me to be forty or only 
thirty-nine, if you met me for the first time? Be 
truthful, Beth; I want to know the worst!” 

“You haven’t told me anything about your 
visit to Braske. Who was staying there? Any- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


9 


body you liked very much? Your letters were 
most unsatisfying, you know, naughty child,” 
said Miss Heronworth, returning to her flowers. 

“It was rather amusing,” the girl answered 
languidly, after an imperceptible pause. “ Kitty 
Deravan is such a good hostess, she is always con- 
triving something new. We had a paper chase 
one night.” 

“ One night?” 

“Yes,” Drusilla laughed, and her eyes 
sparkled as at some delightful recollection ; “ we 
had to hunt with lanterns, of course, and we 
found ourselves in all sorts of extraordinary 
places. I think the village people thought we 
had gone mad. I really enjoyed it though, and 
all the wild doings, but still I am ever so glad to 
be home again. And it’s sweet of you, Beth, to 
be glad to have me back? But I knew you 
wanted me. Even if you have bought the most 
wonderful library in the world, and there is a 
mysterious and attractive young librarian to live 
on the premises, aren’t I better than anybody or 
anything else? Now I am ready,” Drusilla an- 
nounced; “where are the papers, and have you 
anything else you want me to do?” 

Bertha Heronworth shook her head as she tied 
up a number of illustrated papers in a stout roll. 

Whilst she waited, Drusilla asked: 

“Beth, does Mr. Keston ever speak? I can’t 
make him talk ; he won’t even look at me. I sup- 
pose people who always live amongst books must 
get dull; but he is awfully clever, isn’t he? ” 


10 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Miss Heronworth said “Very” in her quiet 
way, and there was the faintest note of restraint 
in her voice as she added: “And he is just the 
right sort of person to help me. I was so grate- 
ful to Mr. Lethbridge for sending him here; he 
won’t stay very long.” 

“Oh!” said Drusilla lightly. “I don’t mind 
how long he stays. He is certainly good to look 
at, even if he is dull, and perhaps I shall be able 
to wake him up a little before he goes. By the 
way, they were talking about your purchase at 
Braske. Lord Deravan declared the nation ought 
to be grateful to you, Beth, as all the good things 
in books and pictures seem to be going to Amer- 
ica nowadays.” 

“ I think I am lucky. Happily for me,” said 
Miss Heronworth, “negotiations had been com- 
menced between Lord Caroby and myself some 
time before his death, and he had left expressed 
wishes that I should be given the first chance; 
otherwise I am not very sure that I should have 
got this library. Of course,” she added, laughing 
with a little nervousness, “the purchase has 
meant a very big sum of money, but Mr. Leth- 
bridge regards it in the light of a very excellent 
investment.” 

“ I don’t think it matters what Mr. Lethbridge 
thinks,” said Drusilla coolly, “ so long as you are 
satisfied; and I am glad, dearest, that you have 
at least spent a little money to please yourself. 
You are always doing more than enough for 
other people, goodness knows ! ” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


11 


The roll of newspapers was tied securely, and 
Bertha Heronworth weighed it in her hand a 
little anxiously. 

“I hope it won’t be too heavy for you, and, 
Drusilla, don’t go across the fields ; there is really 
a nasty wind to-day; keep to the road.” 

“Haven’t you any other errands?” asked 
Drusilla. She paused on her way out. “ Look 
here, when I come back, can’t I write some letters 
for you? You really ought to have a secretary, 
Beth; if I’m no good, why can’t Mr. Keston 
help you? ” 

“Letters never bother me, as you know,” 
answered Bertha Heronworth; “and there is 
more in the library than you can imagine. Lord 
Caroby was an enthusiastic collector, but he 
never made the smallest effort to have his books 
put in proper order. From what Mr. Keston 
tells me, they seem to have been sent here massed 
together in extraordinary confusion. Then 
there is a great quantity of valuable manuscripts, 
and these must be properly tabulated and fixed 
in cases; and, of course, I want a really good 
catalogue.” 

“Things which will keep Mr. Keston pretty 
busy. Well, if I can’t help you, perhaps I can 
help him. I have come home resolved to do all 
sorts of sensible things. You know, Beth, it is 
really time I began to be useful.” 

“There are so many useful people in the 
world,” said the elder sister. “ Good-bye, don’t 
get into mischief.” 


12 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

“ Mischief ! ” echoed Drusilla. “ Good 
heavens! Don’t you realize that I am a virtuous 
person? Why, if all the Ten Commandments 
were spread out before me now I should refuse to 
break one. Honour bright I should ! ” 

She blew a kiss to her sister and turned away, 
passing to the back portion of the house, where 
she whistled to the dogs. As they came tumbling 
about her she said meditatively to herself : 

“Mischief! Happily there is not a ghost of a 
chance of doing anything foolish down here. 
Now if I had stayed on at Braske, it might have 
been a different thing! I am glad I insisted upon 

coming away, and yet ” As she started on 

her walk she gave a little sigh, followed by a 
little laugh. “Mischief can be very sweet,” she 
said, “ sometimes.” 

The dogs made havoc of her trim serge skirt. 
They were wild with joy at the prospect of going 
for a walk with her; but first of all, there were 
so many people who wanted to have a word with 
Miss Drusilla. 

The younger sister was in fact adored by the 
household, whilst Bertha Heron worth, with a few 
exceptions, commanded respect rather than love 
— a touch of irony which so frequently fashions 
the conundrums of everyday life. 

It was not merely a duty, but a source of per- 
sonal pleasure with Miss Heronworth to interest 
herself in one and all about her. She knew all 
the various ailments of her various servants ; she 
remembered the number and the condition of 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE IS 

their relations ; she allied herself with them sym- 
pathetically, and studied them in every way ; yet 
she never once obtained from them that whole- 
hearted appreciation which they lavished upon 
Drusilla. 

Bertha Heronworth, for instance, would never 
have dreamed of peeping into the kitchen except 
when she considered it convenient to be received. 
Drusilla walked in just whenever she felt in- 
clined. On this particular occasion she perched 
herself on the corner of the big kitchen table, 
whilst the tribe of dogs (swept out of this do- 
main as a general rule by the autocratic mistress 
of it) paddled about with dirty paws on the red- 
tiled floor which had just been scrubbed. 

It was only after Drusilla had eaten a small 
home-made cake, which she did not want, and had 
swallowed half a glass of milk, which she loathed, 
simply because she was expected to do these 
things, that she realized the condition of the floor. 
But she was so sorry, and she said she was sorry 
so prettily, that the cook was prepared to go 
down on her knees there and then and take up 
the mud stains just to ease Miss Drusilla’s mind! 

From the kitchen the girl went to the stables, 
and as she was crossing the courtyard a man 
wheeled swiftly past her on a bicycle. He took 
off his cap as he saw the younger Miss Heron- 
worth, and Drusilla smiled and nodded. 

“ So the bookworm does come out of his lair 
every now and then,” she said to herself. “I 
wonder where he is going.” 


14 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Casson, the old coachman, met Drusilla, and 
told her that his invalid wife was sleeping after 
a very bad night. 

“Then I won’t disturb her now. I’ll come 
again this afternoon and see her,” said Drusilla. 
“I’ve got a present for her, Casson. Tell her 
not to get tea for me or to make any fuss.” 

It was such a cosy little home up the narrow 
staircase above the coach-house. In far-off days 
Drusilla remembered that it was wont to be one 
of her most delightful treats to be allowed to 
spend an afternoon with Mrs. Casson. 

The coachman himself was portly and full of 
rheumatism; he should have been pensioned, but 
he would still insist on driving Miss Heronworth, 
and looked with eyes of jaundiced contempt on 
the splendid motor-car which had been intro- 
duced into the establishment to please Miss Dru- 
silla. 

It would, however, have taken a great deal more 
than a motor-car to have displaced Drusilla Her- 
onworth from the proud affection which the old 
coachman lavished upon her, although it must 
be confessed that he had passed a sleepless night 
following the arrival of that forty horse-power 
Panhard at Crowder Chase. 

“And is it walkin’ you’ll be. Miss Drusilla?” 
he asked her now, with a twinkle in his eyes, 
“when you might be drivin’ and killin’ on the 
road as you go? ” 

And sure it’s walking I’ll be,” said Miss Dru- 
silla, and she laughed in his face. “ I’ll have you 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


15 


out with me, Casson, for a spin before many days 
are gone. I’ll wake you up for once in your 
life, Casson!” 

But Casson shook his head. 

“ Horses’ll do my time, miss, and I don’t want 
rousin’, not in that way, anyhow!” 

Drusilla laughed again, and tucking her roll 
of newspapers securely under her arm, walked 
quickly out of the stable-yard with the dogs 
skirmishing about her. 

When she had progressed a little way she 
stopped and turned to look behind her. This 
was one of her favourite spots. Time after time 
in the days of her childhood she had brought out 
her sketching block and had tried to set down in 
immature fashion the impression of the old house 
she loved from this particular point. 

Since she had left the school-room and had 
begun to wander, Drusilla had seen many other 
houses — grander houses, houses stately without 
and within, but no place was to her so beautiful 
and so desirable as this little old-fashioned dwell- 
ing where she had lived all her young life. 

She was perfectly well aware that she regarded 
Crowder Chase with a loving prejudice, for to 
many people the house was little more than a 
country villa, charmingly surrounded and com- 
fortable enough, but altogether too small and un- 
pretentious for people so wealthy as Bertha and 
herself. 

Drusilla, however, had a happy knack of ig- 
noring the opinion of others; moreover, she was 


16 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


truly feminine in her sentimental loyalty to every- 
thing which belonged to Bertha and her home- 
life; hence, Crowder Chase remained to her the 
dearest place in the world. She turned now 
sharply, and, following her sister’s directions, she 
kept to the road after she had left the grounds, 
and she walked briskly through the cold wind 
for some distance, talking nonsense to the dogs, 
and throwing occasional stones and sticks for 
them to run after; and all at once, when she came 
to a gateway, she paused and rested the bundle 
of newspapers on top of it. 

“Light literature, indeed!” she said, and then 
she laughed; and then she laid her cheek on her 
arm and fell into a dreamy mood whilst the dogs 
stood waiting with panting tongues and expect- 
ant eyes. 

Evidently Drusilla’s thoughts were engross- 
ing. She seemed to have drifted far, far away 
from the reality of things; not even the chill 
sting of the wind, nor the damp of the ground on 
which she stood had power to rouse her. Grad- 
ually the remonstrative whine of Bob, the fox 
terrier, became a mournful howl, and still Dru- 
silla did not move. She might possibly have re- 
mained in this fit of abstraction for a much 
longer period, had not the roll of newspapers 
chosen at this moment to slip from her arm and 
fall with a plump into the mud on the other side 
of the gate. There was only one way of regain- 
ing possession of the papers, and that was to 
climb the gate and pick them out of the mud. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


17 


To cleanse them Drusilla conceived the happy 
idea of rubbing them on the rough back of 
Danny, the Scotch terrier; then she climbed over 
the gate again and went on her way to the Cot- 
tage Hospital. 

At the entrance to the hospital grounds she 
met the young man whom she had seen leaving 
the stable-yard at Crowder Chase on a bicycle. 
Drusilla gave Brian Keston a radiant smile. 

“How do you do? Isn’t it a nice cold, grey 
day?” 

She put out her hand so that Keston was 
obliged to stop. He looked very annoyed, awk- 
ward and shy — but Drusilla continued to smile 
at him. 

“So glad you are having a little air and ex- 
ercise,” she said ; “ of course, this is a very won- 
derful library which my sister has bought, and I 
am quite sure that you are an enthusiast about 
books; but I am equally quite sure it can’t be 
good for you to be shut up all day in a musty, 
dusty atmosphere. Now I am home again we 
must change this. I wonder if you would be so 
good as to give these papers in at that door? ” 

He did her bidding with an almost undisguised 
lack of graciousness; but the girl’s eyes only 
sparkled. 

When he came back to her, she said: 

“ I am going to the village to post postcards ; 
please come with me.” 

Without a word he went to where his bicycle 
was standing and wheeled it into the road. 


18 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


He was as conscious of Drusilla’s beauty and 
elegance as he would have been of the warmth of 
the sun, had it deigned to shine on him just then; 
but he was absolutely unused to intimate contact 
with women of any kind, and in the presence of 
Drusilla, he felt uncomfortable. Moreover, 
as he had come to her home as a paid official, 
any intimacy seemed to him out of the ques- 
tion. 

There was, however, about the younger Miss 
Heronworth a touch of imperiousness which de- 
manded obedience, so he did as she wished. 

It was very uphill work carrying on a one- 
sided conversation. Consequently, Drusilla 
ceased in a little while to make remarks and came 
to questions. 

“What were you doing at the hospital?” she 
asked. “Did my sister send you with a mes- 
sage also? ” 

Stiffly, and with that curious reluctance in his 
manner to be in the least degree sociable, Keston 
informed her that there had been an accident 
early that morning in the village, and that he had 
been one of those who had been able to render 
help. 

“An accident?” said Drusilla quickly, her 
colour fading just a little. “What sort of an 
accident? Who is hurt? Not anybody I 
know? ” 

“ It is one of the boys at the mill. I think his 
name is Rogers.” 

“Not — Phil Rogers?” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


19 


The girl stood still suddenly in the middle of 
the muddy road. 

“ I hope it isn’t Phil Rogers,” she said. “ Oh! 
Mr. Keston, is he badly hurt? ” 

Keston said: 

“ Yes,” just that and nothing more. 

Drusilla turned. 

“Don’t wait for me, please; I must go back. 
I know this boy very well. His mother was at 
Crowder Chase years ago as a servant; she mar- 
ried one of the gardeners. Phil is all she has. 
If he is seriously hurt I think it will break his 
mother’s heart.” 

Keston turned and walked back with her rap- 
idly. 

“You are not going to see him?” he asked. 

He noticed that she was very pale. 

She nodded her head. 

“ Yes, of course I must see him.” 

“ I don’t think there is any 4 of course ’ in the 
matter,” Brian Keston said. 44 And you can’t do 
any good.” 

Drusilla turned on him with a flash. 

44 That is rather rude, Mr. Keston,” she said. 
44 How do you know I can’t do any good?” 

He answered her quietly. 

44 1 don’t mean to be rude, I only want you to 
understand that I do not think you ought to go. 
I daresay they will admit you because you are 
Miss Heronworth, but I am quite sure that 
everyone in the hospital will agree that it will not 
be right for you to see this boy in his present con- 


so 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


dition. There will have to be an operation,” 
he added. “His mother has been informed — 
she is with him.” 

Drusilla walked on, taking no notice of his 
words, and he placed his bicycle by the gate and 
followed her through the neat gardens up to the 
red-brick building. She passed in through the 
porch, and he went also. 

The matron came hurrying when she heard that 
Miss Drusilla Heronworth wished to see her. 
She said exactly what Mr. Keston had said. 

“It is very, very good of you, but I do not 
think you had better see the poor boy. Dr. Red- 
good is with him, and we are expecting Mr. 
Bates, the surgeon, from the town as soon as he 
can get here. If they had not managed to stop 
the machinery the boy must have been killed.” 

She gave a few more details, and Keston, 
watching the girl closely, noticed how Drusilla 
winced and how white her lips grew. 

It was an act of impulse which made him put 
his hand on her arm and firmly lead her out into 
the air. He did not release his hold until he saw 
that Drusilla could stand alone, and that the 
colour was creeping back into her cheeks. 

They walked slowly away from the hospital, 
and neither spoke until they had gone some dis- 
tance; then Drusilla turned to him with a faint 
smile. 

“It is rather nice of you, Mr. Keston,” she 
said, “ not to say 4 1 told you so,’ but I had to go.” 

The young man answered: 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


21 


“I quite understand your wish to offer sym- 
pathy to the mother or to do anything in your 
power for the boy, but you serve no good purpose 
by willingly seeking to harrow yourself with the 
sight of suffering which you cannot help.” 

“ I don’t pretend to explain this sort of thing,” 
said Drusilla a little impatiently. “ I only know 
one lias to do things which are not easy or agree- 
able! Of course, I don’t mean always,” she 
added. “ I mean when circumstances force this 
kind of position upon one.” 

“I am afraid I don’t see very much reason in 
that kind of argument.” 

Drusilla lost her temper just for an instant. 

“Reason!” she said. “Why must there al- 
ways be a reason for everything? I hate people 
who sit down and work things out mathematic- 
ally. The best things in life are spontaneous, 
because then they are sincere. I am sure if you 
stop to think about it,” she said lightly the 
next moment, “you will agree that it was at 
least a nice idea on my part to go and see poor 
Phil.” 

He frowned ever so slightly, and his sense of 
impatience, of something approaching to dislike 
for this girl flashed into being again. If he could 
with all courtesy have left her, he would have 
done so willingly; but Drusilla, with conscious 
perverseness, kept him beside her. 

She had a charming gift of words and could 
talk fluently upon any given subject without any 
knowledge whatever of that subject. It de- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


lighted her to talk now. That sense of poignant 
sympathy and of physical repugnance which the 
thought of any bodily suffering always produced 
faded away quickly. The hospital lay well be- 
hind them. If she had not entirely forgotten 
the injured boy, at least she did not remember 
him so acutely. 

“You must not think,” she said to him as they 
approached the village, “ that I want to come into 
contact with things that hurt — I don’t — I really 
hate suffering. I am afraid I hate sorrow. I 
could not live in shadow; but I have a curious 
sense of duty. I feel I must do certain things 
just because I hate doing them.” 

“ That is not duty,” Brian Keston said curtly. 
“That is an hysterical misconception of things 
as they are.” 

Drusilla laughed. 

“I believe I shall like you, Mr. Keston,” she 
said, “because you are argumentative. I was 
afraid when I met you that you were going to be 
tiresome and dull, because you sat like a stone 
and never said a word. If you will only quarrel 
with me now and then, I shall get quite fond of 
you. I have no use for people unless they can 
talk, and unless they will let me talk. I won’t 
go any farther now. Would you mind leaving 
this note at the rectory? I’ll wait for you.” 

She watched him as he walked briskly away. 
From the very first she had realized that he was 
attractive — also, that he was indubitably a gen- 
tleman. Now she realized that he was just a lit- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 23 

tie different from most of the men with whom 
she had been in contact lately. 

His clothes were shabby — his manners not ex- 
actly polished, but she found him interesting, and 
she was quite glad that he was going to stay some 
little while at Crowder Chase; for, despite her 
protestations of happiness, she was just a little 
tiny bit dull at home. 

There had been so many strange elements in 
the atmosphere which had surrounded her just 
before her return to her sister. 

As she waited for Keston to do her errand 
he gradually went out of her thoughts, and an- 
other figure took his place. 

Three of the dogs had followed him; but 
Danny was always faithful. He had sat down 
in the mud close to Drusilla’s feet and was wait- 
ing patiently for her word of command to move 
on. Drusilla stooped and patted the dog’s head; 
then she gave a quick sigh. 

“ It is simply idiotic,” she said, addressing her- 
self, “and I never remembered anybody in this 
sort of way before. Why can’t I stop thinking 
about Carlingford? When Beth begins to ask 
me questions about what I did at Braske, and 
who I met there, I always try to speak quite 
naturally, and to tell her all about him; but the 
very moment I am going to speak his name I 
get scarlet in the face, and terrified lest Beth 
should imagine all sorts of things which don’t 
exist.” 

She gave another quick sigh. 


n THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

“And the horridest part of all this is that I 
daresay he has forgotten my existence! I ex- 
pect he is busy making love to someone else up 
in Scotland now.” And then with a sudden rush 
of feeling which was quite uncontrollable, she 
cried out to herself, “ Oh! I do hope he isn’t!” 

Keston wheeled back to her on his bicycle. He 
had reverted to his former condition of silence. 
The desire to leave her was so dominant in him 
as to make itself felt tangibly. 

But Drusilla had no intention of letting him 
go. She told him quite plainly. 

“I know you want to get away,” she said; 
“you are so irritable as to be almost angry; but 
I am always accustomed to get what I want, and 
as you wouldn’t let me have my own way just 
now, you have to suffer for that.” 

A few yards further on she became personal in 
her remarks. 

“ I am afraid you are bad-tempered, Mr. Kes- 
ton. Oh! please don’t be sulky. You have to 
amuse me, you know, and you can’t do that if you 
are always in the dumps.” 

The certain conviction that he did not in the 
least know how to treat her and her nonsense was 
enjoyable up to a certain point, but after a little 
while it became irksome. 

“ This is real hard work and no mistake,” she 
said to herself. “I expect when he gets in he 
will sit down and write out his resignation! And 
then Beth will scold me.” 

She resolved to dismiss him. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


25 


“ I can see you are longing to get back to your 
work, so I won’t keep you. If you will just get 
me some of those fascinating red berries, I will 
let you escape, Mr. Keston. Let me hold your 
bicycle.” But he set this suggestion aside, of 
course, and putting the machine against the 
hedge he pulled and dragged at the branches 
above it till he had accomplished her desire. 

Drusilla thanked him very sweetly, and 
promptly pinned the berries to her coat. The 
next moment she had stepped back and had whis- 
tled the dogs to heel, for there came the warning 
note of an approaching motor. 

“We don’t all want to be cut up into little bits, 
and this is a horrid corner. I always feel we 
shall run into something when I am in the 
car.” 

The motor, however, came round the corner 
almost leisurely, and as Drusilla glanced at it 
carelessly enough, her face suddenly grew hot 
with colour. 

“My goodness!” she said under her breath. 

The car ran a few yards and then stopped, and 
the man whom Drusilla had recognized got out 
and came hurriedly towards her. 

She gave him her hand with well-feigned in- 
diff erence. 

“How do you do. Lord Carlingford? You 
are you, aren’t you? Please forgive me if I am 
just a little doubtful. Surely, when we said 
good-bye two days ago you told me you were 
going to Scotland?” 


26 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Carlingford laughed. 

“I thought so at the time, but I found that 
Scotland could wait; and as I had a chance of 
coming down into this neighbourhood, I decided 
to take it. I hope you are going to say that 
you’re glad to see me, Miss Heronworth? ” 

“ Oh, of course ; that’s the sort of thing people 
are always expected to say, isn’t it? ” 

There was the usual pretty, laughing note in 
Drusilla’s voice, but not quite the usual compos- 
ure in her manner. She turned involuntarily to 
make some sort of introduction between Brian 
Keston and Lord Carlingford, but she found 
that Mr. Keston had mounted his bicycle and was 
already out of sight. 

She noted, too, that Bob, the fox terrier, had 
galloped after him. It gave Drusilla the faint- 
est suggestion of annoyance to realize that this 
particular dog should desert her so readily. 

“ You mustn’t let me keep you standing here,” 
said Lord Carlingford. 

“ Oh, I am just home. Is that your own car? ” 
asked Drusilla. 

He laughed and shook his head. 

“ No; I sent mine up north last week. This is 
a hired one, and rather a ramshackle affair. The 
people with whom I am staying haven’t run to a 
motor just yet, so I had to do the best I could 
with the only available one in the neighbour- 
hood.” 

With just the faintest touch of hesitation in 
her manner Drusilla said: 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


n 


“ Well, you will lunch with us, I hope? Then 
we can send you back in our motor ; so please get 
rid of this one.” 

He obeyed her with alacrity. 

“ Only, you know,” he said, when the car had 
been dismissed and they were walking on to- 
gether, “ I didn’t really mean to burst in on you 
in this fashion. As a matter of fact, I hardly 
dared hope for the good luck of seeing you so 
soon, but I could not resist the temptation of 
taking a spin in this direction. Won’t you let 
me carry your parcel? ” 

She laughed as she transferred the packet she 
carried to his charge. 

“ That looks as if it contained a small blanket,” 
she said; “and there’s nothing larger than post- 
cards inside. I started out with the full inten- 
tion of posting them and forgot all about it, you 
see. I made all sorts of promises to the Deravan 
children when I left them yesterday, and being a 
virtuous person, I began at once to keep up with 
my promises.” 

“ The Deravan children are not the only ones 
who have promises made them,” said the young 
man beside her quietly. 

Drusilla laughed and blushed. 

“ How do you know,” she asked, “ that a post- 
card is not now on its way to Scotland?” 

He looked at her suddenly and eagerly. 

“Did you write?” he asked. “Have I missed 
your letter? ” 

She stopped once again to whistle to the dogs. 


28 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

It was so ridiculous of her that she should feel 
so nervous. 

“Well, I might have written,” she said; “only 
as you forgot to give me your address, you see 
I couldn’t/; 

She hurried on into a safer channel. 

“Beth, my sister, will be so pleased to meet 
you.” 

“ Is she like you?” asked Lord Carlingford. 

Drusilla shook her head. 

“Oh, dear no. Beth is just everything that I 
am not! She is sweet, and good, and true, and 
beautiful; at least she is beautiful to me. I have 
only a hazy remembrance of my mother ; and al- 
though Beth is not so very many years older, she 
has taken care of me ever since I can remember.” 

Lord Carlingford made no reply in words, but 
Drusilla felt his eyes upon her, felt something stir 
in her heart as those eyes rested upon her. This 
sudden coming was so unexpected, it swept her 
so surely away from that safe and tranquil con- 
dition which had been her heritage all through 
her young life. It meant, of course, that he had 
come to sue and yet to master, and Drusilla had 
never known a master till now! 


CHAPTER II 


To find himself in such agreeable quarters was 
a new experience to Brian Keston. His old 
friend Lethbridge, who was senior partner of the 
legal firm which had the handling of Miss Her- 
onworth’s affairs, had assured him he would find 
Bertha Heron worth an unusually nice woman. 
He had, nevertheless, gone down to Crowder 
Chase nervous and ill at ease; but he had been 
met so graciously that his awkwardness gave way 
perceptibly. Drusilla, with her dainty clothes 
and her pretty, flighty manner, had been absent 
on his arrival. He had fallen almost at once into 
his groove of usefulness. 

Miss Heronworth had led the young man first 
of all to those rooms which were placed at his 
own disposal, and then she had taken him into 
that portion of the house which henceforward 
would be his particular province. A bond of 
sympathy had been struck between them in dis- 
cussing the treasures of the library, some of 
which had already arrived. 

Keston quickly realized that he would be called 
upon to handle some wonderful and rare exam- 
ples both in book and manuscript. It would 
seem that there were not only choicest specimens 
from the earliest monastic printing efforts of 
Italy, but equally fine examples of the early 

29 


30 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Dutch and German presses. The collection was 
immensely rich in Caxtons and it contained be- 
sides histories of precious bindings dated back so 
far as the thirteenth century. 

To Brian Keston the name of this celebrated 
library had conveyed naturally a great deal, but 
till his arrival at Crowder Chase he had not fully 
realized the number of almost priceless posses- 
sions which it would be his task to sort, arrange, 
and catalogue. 

The knowledge awakened a certain amount of 
hesitation. 

“I am almost afraid,” he had said, “that I 
may not be quite capable of handling this big 
work, Miss Heronworth.” 

But Bertha Heronworth had smiled on him 
gently. 

“You will be frank with me,” she had an- 
swered, “ and if you have any doubts, or if you 
want help, you will tell me so at once. From 
what I know of your training, however — I mean 
from what Mr. Lethbridge has told me of the 
work which you have been doing — I feel pretty 
well assured that you will not fail easily! Still, 
I understand your feelings, Mr. Keston; indeed 
I hardly realize myself as yet that I have been 
able to possess myself of all these wonderful 
things. I am afraid this little place is scarcely 
worthy of such a collection, but for the time 
being I must hoard it here.” 

But Keston had no fault to find with the rooms 
which had been built as an extension and de- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


31 


signed especially for library purposes; indeed, to 
the young man the house, though not sumptuous 
or grand, was a delightful one. The dominant 
note of homeliness, of real comfort appealed to 
him very directly, and the rooms which had been 
given to him seemed almost too luxurious when 
contrasted with the shabby, dingy place in which 
he had lived for so many years. 

With nothing, however, was he more charmed 
than with the mistress of Crowder Chase. There 
was about Bertha Heronworth a sweetness and a 
serenity, and an unforced graciousness which 
won the young man’s heart. Iveston felt, too, 
that her welcome was absolutely sincere, and that 
he would find in her a friend as well as a fellow- 
worker. 

Miss Heronworth did all in her power to con- 
firm this delightful impression. 

“I want you to feel quite at home, Mr. Kes- 
ton,” she had said. “ My sister and I will be de- 
lighted if you will lunch and dine with us, but 
at the same time if this at any time interferes 
with your work we shall quite understand. And 
please remember you are going to let me help 
you whenever or wherever I can be of use. Books 
have been my delight ever since I can remember 
anything.’’ 

“You are rich already,” Brian Keston had said 
as he had walked round the library and had 
glanced at the contents of the shelves. 

But Miss Heronworth had shaken her head. 

“We have very little that is rare here, save, 


32 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

perhaps, these old Bibles; in this case you will 
find a copy in very fine preservation of the first 
English Bible, the Coverdale, 1535. My father, 
I think, would have taken up books as his hobby 
in real earnest had he lived; as it was he started 
buying first editions, and these, of course, will 
become more valuable as time passes.” 

Though he fell quickly into the duties re- 
quired of him a sense of unreality always pressed 
on Brian Keston whenever he was alone in the 
charming sitting-room which had been allotted 
to him, and on this morning after he had bicycled 
away from Drusilla he stood a moment looking 
about him with a nervous feeling which was al- 
most irritation. 

“Lethbridge was right,” he said to himself 
with that touch of grimness which circumstances 
had worked into his voice and manner. “ I am 
in clover, but whether I am wise to do this sort 
of thing time will show. I am not so sure that I 
shouldn’t have been better off if I had stayed in 
the old groove. I believe I am hard ; and I ought 
to have had all nonsense knocked out of me, still 
these kind of things — ” he glanced at the chairs, 
the comfortable couch, the large, handsome writ- 
ing-table and equally handsome curtains of the 
window and shrugged his shoulders — “have no 
real place in a life like mine!” 

Only a month before he had been serving be- 
hind the counter in an old book-shop in a north- 
country town. His life had been lived in and 
about that book-shop for several years; he had 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 33 

slept in a shabby kind of attic, he had eaten in an 
underground apartment. Nothing but enthusi- 
asm for the work, nothing but that overpowering 
interest, that kind of obsession which came to 
him little by little for the books, the wondrous, 
silent revelations of other men’s brains, would 
have kept him so long in that little shabby shop 
in that unimportant town ; but chance had put a 
certain kind of power in his hands. The man 
whom he had served was old and was sick. Little 
by little the business had been left entirely in 
Keston’s care and he had proved a splendid ad- 
ministrator. He had bought and sold on his 
own initiative and the little shop had prospered. 
Probably if death had not come to end the old 
owner’s sufferings Keston would have stayed 
on indefinitely; but the relatives had resolved to 
sell the business, and the young man found him- 
self practically adrift after fifteen years’ hard 
labour and real loyalty. He had not, it is true, 
left the old shop immediately, but had agreed to 
remain on until the business had changed hands, 
and it was in this interval that he had made ap- 
plication for possible recommendation to Mr. 
Lethbridge, the one and only person in the world 
whom he called friend, or who took any interest 
in him. 

The two men had dined in London the night 
before Keston’s arrival at Crowder Chase. 

“It is a real satisfaction to me to bring you 
and Miss Heronworth together,” Stephen Leth- 
bridge had said. “There are few people for 


34 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


whom I have the respect and admiration that I 
have for Bertha Heronworth. I suppose if all 
her property were realized she would be worth 
every penny of two millions, yet she is the most 
modest, the simplest, the kindest and most char- 
itable creature in the world. She owns the larg- 
est share of the Heronworth shipbuilding firm 
up North.” 

Mr. Lethbridge had said nothing about the 
younger Miss Heronworth, but this did not sur- 
prise Keston. Drusilla did not appear to him 
to be a person who would be of importance to 
anybody but herself, and probably her sister. 
She was the kind of flighty, frivolous, pretty 
creature whose mission it was to dazzle, but who 
could make no claim upon the intelligence or real 
sympathies of those about her; so he lightly dis- 
missed the girl at first, but gradually he was be- 
ginning to think differently. Drusilla had a 
trick of making strange claims, indeed of exact- 
ing not merely attention but after-thought. She 
was very prominently in his mind now as he 
stood musing with a frown on his brow. He 
was thinking of her, not as she had been just be- 
fore he had left her, but as she had looked when 
they had stood at the door of the cottage hos- 
pital, and she had entreated so earnestly to be 
allowed to see Phil Rogers. There had been 
vouchsafed to him then something more than a 
glimpse of a nature which could possess depths 
of emotional feeling strangely at variance with 
her favourite flippancy. Assuredly she was not 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


35 


to be judged casually. As he stood frowning 
and musing, Bob, the fox terrier, sat at his feet 
and looked up at him. Keston had hardly realized 
that the dog had followed him, and as he stooped 
to greet the animal his face took on a different 
expression. Bob was evidently determined to 
be yery friendly. He wagged his tail, and he 
sneezed, and he stretched himself, and he stood 
up on his hind legs, and leaned affectionately 
against the young man, and as he caressed the 
smooth head of the dog and responded to his 
affectionate greeting there came back to Brian 
Rest on’s remembrance visions of days long be- 
fore, when he had lived in just such an atmos- 
phere as this, and had possessed just such a dog 
as Bob for his constant companion and friend. 
It was long since memory had swept him back 
so far; he never encouraged himself to dwell on 
things which had happened when he had been a 
boy, for far away as those things were, they 
made the ground- work for that bitterness which 
had done its best to spoil a fine nature. 

Drusilla missed Mr. Keston when they were 
seated at luncheon. She still wore her hat, but 
had discarded her thick coat, and in the front of 
her silk blouse she had pinned the bunch of red 
berries which Brian Keston had picked for her 
with so much difficulty. 

Lord Carlingford proved a most agreeable 
acquisition to the small luncheon party. Miss 
Heronworth had expressed real pleasure at 
meeting him; nevertheless, there was a little 


36 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


pang in her heart as she glanced now and again 
at the two young people, who laughed and talked 
so lightly one to another. 

Drusilla’s beauty almost startled her to-day, 
and though she felt that she ought to have been 
prepared for the coming of this stranger she 
confessed a little sorrowfully that she would 
have been glad if Drusilla could have remained 
her own a little longer; moreover, there was a 
shadow hanging over the unconscious happiness 
of these two, and when she looked ahead Bertha 
Heron worth shivered involuntarily. Yet, this 
lover who came so boldly, with his story written 
so legibly in his eyes, was one to make the heart 
of any young woman proud. Lord Carling- 
ford sprang from a splendid race, it was little 
wonder that any girl should see in him the stuff 
that makes a hero. 

She left them to themselves after luncheon; 
and Drusilla took him to all her favourite haunts. 
She made him wait for her while she paid the 
promised visit to Mrs. Casson. When she had 
given orders that the motor should be ready, and 
they were sauntering back to the house, she sud- 
denly uttered an exclamation: 

“Oh, I have lost my berries — my dear little 
red berries ! ” 

And, looking back, she saw the berries lying 
on the ground. Before she could reach them, 
Carlingford had picked them up. 

“The stem is broken,” he said; “you can’t 
wear them. May I keep them?” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


37 


She shook her head. 

“No. I can’t give them away because they 
were a gift to me.” 

His face clouded; and laughingly she ex- 
plained : 

“Mr. Keston, who was with me when you 
met me to-day, picked those berries expressly for 
me. So you see I can’t give them to you.” 

Lord Carlingford laughed at her; then he flung 
the berries on the ground, and crushed them un- 
der his heel. 

The girl looked at him, startled, half fright- 
ened, and then indignant. 

“ That was cruel,” she said under her breath. 

“ And I am cruel,” he answered. “ It is just 
as well that you should know me as I really 
am.” 

“You are very kind,” said Drusilla a trifle 
coldly; “but why is it necessary that I should 
know you better than I know you now? ” 

He laughed again, and once again com- 
manded her eyes to his. 

“Why, that is a foolish question, Drusilla,” 
he said; “seeing that I am here because I am 
yours — because you belong to me.” 

She grew hot and then she felt cold, and the 
colour faded utterly, out of her face. 

“Please don’t talk nonsense,” she said. “If 
you are here, you alone know why you have 
come. I gave you no invitation.” 

He bit his lip, and suddenly put his hand out 
and laid it on her arm, but she drew back quickly, 


38 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


so quickly that she slipped from under his 
touch. 

“ Are you sure that you won’t have some tea 
before you go? 5 ’ she asked. “By the way, how 
far have you to go? We know most of the 
people staying about here.” 

“I’m not staying with friends,” he said 
quietly. “I am putting up at the inn in East 
Wadley.” 

Drusilla said: “ I am sorry,” with a curious in- 
flection in her voice. 

“Sorry!” Carlingford echoed; “but why? 
Of course, you knew I should follow you.” 

At this she turned, and he saw her lips were 
quivering. 

“ Indeed and indeed you are wrong! I never 
imagined such a thing. How could I? We 
only met a week ago.” 

“ A week! ” the young man laughed. “ Time 
means nothing; it is fate that counts. Do you 
know that it was by the merest chance I turned 
up at Braske? When Lady Deravan wrote to 
me I had every intention of being a good many 
hundred miles away from her and the people she 
had staying with her; but my uncle in Dumfries- 
shire cracked up suddenly, as you know, and 
finding myself out for a week, I wired to know 
if I could go to Braske. The moment I arrived 
Lady Deravan got hold of me and began talk- 
ing about you. She tried to describe you, which 
wasn’t easy, and then she told me to take care of 
myself. She said: ‘Drusilla Heronworth is 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


39 


really an awfully sweet girl, but she hasn’t got 
one little bit of heart. She is a fearful flirt!’ 
Well, when I saw you I realized that Lady Der- 
avan had made a mistake, not when she said you 
were a flirt, but when she said you had no heart : 
for you have a heart, Drusilla, and that heart is 
going to belong to me. Don’t you see,” the 
man said almost fiercely, “you’ve got me body 
and soul too! I’ve played at this sort of game 
lots of times, Drusilla, but I never, never knew 
the real thing till now. Look here,” he broke off 
with a little laugh : “ I sound as if I were bully- 
ing you, but I only want you to feel, to know, 
how much in earnest I am. I thought you saw 
how it was with me all last week. Why, when we 
said ‘ Good-bye ’ at Braske I simply didn’t know 
what to do with myself.” 

Her silence, the whiteness of her face, touched 
him. 

“I say, dearest,” he said, “have I frightened 
you ? ” 

And now the tenderness in his voice brought 
the colour rushing back to her face and the tears 
to her eyes. 

“I did not understand,” she said falteringly, 
“yet I suppose it must have been my fault. 
Lots and lots of times Bertha has tried to make 
me realize that I am grown up, and must not 
talk nonsense. If I had been like the others ” 

“If you had been like the others,” said Car- 
lingford, with conviction, “I shouldn’t be here 
to-day.” 


40 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


They had moved on slowly, and were now in 
view of the house, where the motor-car was 
drawn up waiting. 

With a delightful and irresistible gesture the 
young man held out his hand. 

“ Aren’t you going to say you are a little sorry 
for me?” he whispered. “I am staying at a 
wretched little inn. I am going to have a long, 
dreary evening. I’ve only got my thoughts of 
you to keep me company.” 

“Why did you come?” asked Drusilla nerv- 
ously. “Don’t you see that you give me such 
a sense of responsibility? I want to be kind; 
but I don’t know you. I — I don’t know 
myself.” 

Bertha Heronworth came down the steps 
slowly, and advanced to meet them. Her com- 
ing brought both relief and a little pang to Dru- 
silla. The thought of his loneliness, the thought 
of the long, dull evening of which he had just 
spoken, the knowledge that he had set every- 
thing aside just to be near her, worked upon 
that facile sympathy of hers, moved her, made a 
direct appeal to her. 

Always ready to respond to impulse, now she 
committed herself almost unconsciously. 

“Bertha, what do you think?” she called. 
“Lord Carlingford is not staying with friends: 
he is putting up at that wretched little inn at 
East Wadley. Won’t you persuade him to come 
back and dine with us? ” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


41 


‘‘It will give me very great pleasure,” said 
Miss Heronworth. 

And Lord Carlingf ord accepted the invitation 
with alacrity. 

As he took temporary farewell of them his 
hand closed firmly over Drusilla’s. 

“Dearest! ” he said in a whisper. And at the 
w^ord, at the touch, she flamed into red-hot life, 
into a veritable tumult of feeling, none of which 
she was capable of analyzing or comprehending. 

The car whisked away; the sisters turned in- 
doors together; Bertha held a telegram in her 
hand. It would have been natural to have 
spoken about the young man who had just left 
them, but she did not do so ; instead, she held out 
the telegram to her sister. 

“I am afraid you will be vexed, darling/’ she 
said; “this is from Aunt Edith. She has wired 
saying she wants to come here now for a few 
days instead of next week, and will be down in 
time for dinner this evening. Uncle Edmund 
and Connie, of course, are coming, too.” 

“What a bore!” said Drusilla. But she 
spoke vaguely, as though she were separated 
from all that was ordinary and conventional. 
By degrees, however, as they remained in the 
hall chatting about the guests who were coming, 
Drusilla became roused. 

“ I shall love to see dear old Uncle Edmund 
and Connie. They are always a joy; but pre- 
pare yourself, Beth,” she said, with a laugh, “ I 


42 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


fully expect Aunt Edith has chosen to come here 
now on purpose to gird at you because you have 
bought this library. It will be rather a change if 
she finds fault with you instead of me. It is 
queer, isn’t it — ” said Drusilla thoughtfully — 
“ how disagreeable she always is with me, and yet 
I give you my word I work awfully hard to 
make her like me! Most people get to like me 
very quickly. Some/’ she added to herself with 
a touch of humour and dismay mingled, “too 
quickly, but I can’t do anything with Aunt 
Edith.” 

“ Oh, you imagine this, dearest,” Bertha Her- 
onworth said very quickly, but the trouble that 
had been brooding in her mind the last hour or 
so found expression on her face. 

“ She will, of course, pick all sorts of holes in 
Mr. Keston,” Drusilla chatted on. “Depend 
upon it, Bertha, you will now find that you have 
done a dreadful thing in engaging a strange 
young man to be your librarian.” 

“Let us hope things won’t be quite so bad,” 
said Bertha, with a faint smile. 

She began to move away slowly, as she spoke, 
and Drusilla stretched out her hand and drew her 
back. 

“Don’t go,” she said, “I want you.” She 
sighed a little. “I thought we were going to 
have such a heavenly time together, and now this 
is all spoilt. . . . Beth, can’t we put off the 

people who are coming next week? ... I 
know we must put up with Aunt Edith; but oh! 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 43 

I do so badly want a quiet little time with you all 
to myself. Why can’t people leave us alone?” 
Drusilla asked impatiently. 

Bertha Heronworth’s heart was heating a lit- 
tle uncertainly as she stood holding her sister’s 
hand. At another time she would have ques- 
tioned, but something kept her silent now — a 
sense of scarcely defined sadness — and with it 
the knowledge that this sudden development in 
Drusilla’s life must be fraught for herself with 
so much that would be difficult, even anxious. 

Suddenly Drusilla lifted her sister’s hand to 
her lips and kissed it. 

“Were you surprised to see Lord Carling- 
ford?” she asked. 

“Very,” answered Bertha. Then gallantly 
she added: “He is very handsome, Drusilla; al- 
together delightful.” 

“ Yes, isn’t he? ” said Drusilla warmly. “ They 
tell me all the women are in love with him. I 
am afraid he is a little bit of a flirt, you know, 
Beth. Still, I must confess he is really nice and 
amusing too. Aunt Edith will love him.” 

She picked up her coat that she had tossed off. 

“I suppose I ought to go and meet them at 
the station, eh?” she queried. 

“Oh, no, dearest. They will come so late. 
And that reminds me I must give orders that 
dinner must be put back,” Miss Heronworth 
moved away to find the housekeeper, and as she 
did so she glanced at her sister. 

“ Oh, Drusilla, you have lost that lovely bunch 


44 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


of berries. They made such a pretty bit of 
colour, and looked so sweet in that white blouse.” 
“Ah!” 

Like a flash Drusilla was across the hall and 
out of the house. The berries, crushed and 
shapeless, were lying where he had trodden 
them. 

Drusilla picked them up tenderly. 

“ I would not have had Mr. Keston know about 
this for all I am worth,” she said to herself, and 
she walked back to the house thoughtfully. 


CHAPTER III 


When Lord Carlingford came back at dinner- 
time, he found Drusilla standing in front of the 
fireplace in the hall reading some letters. 

The young man apologized for being early. 

“But that car of yours is a ripper,” he said; 
“ we seemed to fly here.” 

“ You are not early; it is we who are late. You 
have been brought here on false pretences, Lord 
Carlingford. You are not going to have a 
pleasant evening; it is just as well to prepare 
you.” 

“I have all I want to make me happy,” the 
young man answered, as he stood in front of the 
fireplace beside her. 

But she did not blush, she only laughed. 

“ I begin to think you are one of those rarely 
endowed individuals who are satisfied with little.” 

Then Drusilla asked him a question: 

“Have you many relatives?” 

He nodded his head. 

“ Heaps. Some of them fairly decent, too, as 
relations go. What’s the matter? Has some 
one been vexing you? ” 

“A family has descended on us, and just when 
we were going to have such a lovely evening all 
by ourselves! ” 

Carlingford turned. 


45 


46 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“Drusilla!” he breathed; then hurriedly: 
“ But we shall have a whole life-time of evenings 
spent by our two selves.” 

At this she laughed outright. 

“ Please don’t let us talk so f oolishly. * It is 
very sweet of you to care about me so much, but 
really I don’t want to lose my own happy life 
just yet awhile. Now you have seen Beth, and 
so you can easily understand how beautiful home 
is to me because of her. And . . . and, 

oh! well, please don’t let anyone, especially Aunt 
Edith, suppose anything! We are good friends, 
you and I, old friends of just a week’s acquaint- 
ance, but, really, I beg you will believe I am in 
earnest when I . . . 

But he silenced the words on her lips. 

“ I love you,” he whispered, and he moved for 
an instant closer to her. “You talk of friendship 
and patience, but I am on fire, Drusilla, because 
I love you — because T love you ." 

“Beth is coming!” Drusilla said under her 
voice. She took her hand from his and drew the 
long, loose, white glove over it quickly. “Beth, 
Lord Carlingford is in love with my motor — 
won’t you let him take you for a trip somewhere 
to-morrow? I have been preparing him for a 
very dull and family evening.” 

Bertha smiled faintly as she addressed the 
young man: 

“ I am only sorry you will not nreet our uncle, 
Edmund Lingfield ; he is not well enough to come 
down to dinner. Drusilla,” Bertha added, “I 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


47 


feel so grieved about him, he looks so terribly 
ill.” 

“ Can I go and see him? Why did Aunt Edith 
make him take this long journey ?” Drusilla 
asked in one breath. 

“You shall see him to-morrow. From what 
Aunt Edith tells me, it seems he was Very anx- 
ious to come here; he has wanted to see us for 
some time.” 

Drusilla looked at Lord Carlingford. 

“ I was abusing relations just now, but I 
should have made two exceptions — dear Uncle 
Edmund is the one person I love in all the world 
after Beth, except, perhaps, Connie, his daugh- 
ter.” She stood tapping her fan against her 
hand, then she moved away with a smile as Brian 
Keston, wearing a shy, awkward air, came out of 
the shadows into the glow of the lamps. 

He had dressed for dinner unwillingly, but 
Miss Heronworth had asked him to dine in such a 
charming manner he had not found it possible to 
refuse. 

Drusilla forgot his churlishness of the morn- 
ing; she enticed him to sit down and talk. 

“Did your ears burn this afternoon late? No? 
Well, then, there must be something wrong! I 
went to see poor Mrs. Rogers, and she could talk 
of nothing else but you and your goodness to her 
poor boy.” 

“ Rogers is better to-night,” Mr. Keston said, 
in his awkward way. 

Drusilla nodded her head. 


48 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“Yes, I know, and I am so glad. The next 
moment she said: “I have a bone to pick with 
you, Mr. Keston! You have stolen my Bob’s 
heart away. He never deserted me till you came. 
But perhaps it is only fair treatment, for I left 
him here for nearly two months this summer. 
You are fond of dogs? ” 

He answered “Yes”; just that, nothing more 
or less. 

Drusilla was piqued and amused too. From 
the first she had felt the strength of this quiet, 
uncommunicative man ; he had a personality. His 
thin, clean-shaven face, his tall figure, his well- 
shaped hands made atonement for his awkward- 
ness; even for his lack of amiability. 

“ I suppose Beth can make him talk, but if I 
start books I am undone! What curious eyes 
he has : they have an untamed expression. I won- 
der what he will do if Aunt Edith takes him in 
hand?” 

Mrs. Lingfield came on the scene at that mo- 
ment, followed by her step-daughter, an ordi- 
nary-looking young woman, with plaintive eyes 
which had humour in them. She and Drusilla 
kissed one another with real aff ection. 

“ Dear Connie, you will scarcely believe it, but 
I went up early to dress on purpose to be down 
here when you all arrived, and I fell asleep! And 
so I am punished, for I am longing to see your 
father. Is he really ill?” 

Brian Keston stood in the background. 
Against his inclination he found himself watching 
Drusilla Heronworth. Her every movement 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


49 


had a new charm in it. She reminded him of so 
many different things, all bewildering, all beau- 
tiful. 

Miss Heronworth came to him as he stood 
apart. 

“ I am so sorry my uncle cannot dine with us,” 
she said, “he is too much fatigued; but I hope 
you will meet him to-morrow.” 

Bertha looked rather wan, as though she were 
tired. 

“You will take in my aunt, I want to present 
you to her. Drusilla, you two girls must go in 
together.” 

Mrs. Lingfield chose to be unusually amiable 
to the young man brought up to her, and, later, 
as she sailed into the dining-room on the arm of 
Mr. Keston, she vouchsafed the information that 
once, many years ago, she had known some peo- 
ple bearing the same name as his own. 

“ I lost sight of them when my husband and I 
went to live abroad, and I have so often won- 
dered what became of Rosalie Keston; she was 
a very pretty woman.” 

“ My mother s name was Rosalie,” Brian said, 
but he spoke quietly, almost uninterestedly. 

“ A strange coincidence.” Mrs. Lingfield 
turned her well-organized smile on the young 
man. “And what was your father’s name? It 
would be odd if you should happen to be my old 
friend’s son, Mr. Keston.” 

“My father was Richard Keston, at one time 
a fairly well-known literary man; he died com- 
paratively young.” 


50 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Mrs. Lingfield repeated the name and then 
uttered an exclamation. 

“But of course, how foolish of me not to re- 
member ! Richard Keston, why my husband was 
one of his greatest admirers! And he died young! 
And your mother ? 99 

“ My mother married again many years ago.” 

Mrs. Lingfield said, “How interesting!” and 
meant what she said. 

“ It would give me so much pleasure to meet 
your dear mother again,” she said graciously. 

But the information she naturally expected 
was not forthcoming. 

“No doubt an excellent young man, but ab- 
solutely devoid of manners,” Mrs. Lingfield said 
to herself, and for the remainder of the dinner 
she talked to Lord Carlingford. But while she 
chatted, her mind was working in an old channel, 
recalling old things, and all at once there came 
to her a remembrance which explained much that 
Brian Keston had left unsaid. Just as she was 
rising from the table she turned again to him. 

“Forgive me for reminding you of sad things, 
but was it true that your father was involved in 
that Spanrith smash ? I remember he was a very 
great friend of George Spanrith, and we always 
feared he might have suffered as so many others 
did.” 

“ He lost every farthing he had in the world,” 
Brian Keston said quietly; “it was that which 
killed him.” 

“Poor fellow!” said Mrs. Lingfield with a 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


51 


sigh; “it was a terrible business.” She moved 
away and passed out into the drawing-room. 
Bertha Heron worth remained to introduce the 
two men, but Keston was only too glad to escape 
to his own room, and Lord Carlingford was left 
to sit and smoke alone. 

In the drawing-room Connie Lingfield talked 
about him frankly. 

“He is awfuly handsome, Drusilla!” 

“Yes, isn’t he? And he wears such nice 
clothes,” said Drusilla in her laziest fashion, “ for 
which no doubt he never pays.” 

Connie laughed. 

“He looks as if he could make anyone pay 
who owed him anything! Drusilla, he has a 
temper!” 

“Who hasn’t? 

“ Mother has only come here now because she 
heard a rumour that he was madly in love with 
you, and she felt she must know what was going 
to happen! ” 

At this Drusilla changed colour. 

“ I don’t know what Aunt Edith has heard, or 
who can have been telling her things about me. 
It is certainly a little premature to marry me to 
a man I have only known one short week.” 

It was so unusual for Drusilla to speak coldly 
that her cousin opened her rather engaging eyes. 

“You shan’t marry anyone if you don’t want 
to,” she said soothingly. 

And Drusilla laughed, for it struck her that 
this was rather the reverse of the actual case. 


52 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“ Come over here,” she said, leading the way 
to the piano. “Lord Carlingford shall sing to 
us.” When they were well out of earshot, she 
said to Miss Lingfield: “Connie, darling, you 
won’t let Aunt Edith worry me about this, will 
you? Really, it is too absurd! ” 

And Connie’s eyes now twinkled. 

“Well, I don’t know. I am not given to 
jumping at conclusions as mother does as a gen- 
eral rule, still, you must confess, Drusilla, cir- 
cumstances are going a long way to prove her 
case. She literally gasped when she heard he 
was coming to dinner. Of course, he must 
have intentions of some sort, else why should 
he be down here?” 

Drusilla sat down on the music stool. 

“Oh, Connie,” she said, “do be an angel and 
marry him yourself! You can’t think how much 
obliged I should be to you.” 

“And how grateful Lord Carlingford would 
be! I must think it over. But, softly, here he 
comes ! I suppose you don’t want me to propose 
now right away.” 

Drusilla pinched her cousin and then looked 
at the man approaching with mischief in her 
eyes. 

“Lord Carlingford . . . Miss Lingfield has 
something to ask you ! ” 

The other girl started and blushed in con- 
fusion, but quickly recovered herself. 

“ We want you to sing to us,” she said a little 
breathlessly; “please do.” 


CHAPTER IV 


Lord Carlingford possessed, it appeared, 
quite a pretty musical talent. Drusilla threw her- 
self into a low chair close to the piano and gave 
herself up to real enjoyment. She did not hear 
Connie Lingfield steal away after the second 
song to pay a visit to her father, but lay back 
with closed eyes, dreamily happy. 

Mrs. Lingfield and Bertha sat at the other side 
of the room. 

Drusilla’s prophecy had been fulfilled. As- 
suredly Mrs. Lingfield did not approve of the 
purchase of the celebrated Caroby library, and 
she allowed this to be clearly understood. But 
then she rarely approved of what her niece did, 
and had always grudged Bertha her splendid in- 
heritance. Not that she herself lacked for any- 
thing; indeed, her share of the Heronworth 
wealth was by no means inconsiderable; but 
Bertha’s father had been her elder brother and 
a very clever man, with the result that at his 
death the fine inheritance his father had left him 
had become a very large fortune. Mrs. Ling- 
field was not merely jealous; it had long since be- 
come a favourite occupation with her to criticise 
all that Bertha did. The last time she had been 
on a visit to Crowder Chase she had preached a 
sermon against her niece’s simple home and sim- 

53 


54 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

pie ways. This time her text was different. As 
long, however, as she confined her remarks to the 
subject of the library, Miss Heron worth was not 
uneasy; it was when her aunt began to discuss 
Drusilla and the young man who was singing 
tender love songs in a whisper that Bertha Her- 
onworth’s heart grew a little cold. 

Mrs. Lingfield had to allow grudgingly that 
Drusilla had not done badly, although, of course, 
there were blemishes to be found even in Lord 
Carlingford. 

“ He is the very image of his father,” she ob- 
served, as she opened a reticule and took out 
some ridiculous piece of work which she called 
“ embroidery.’’ “ And you know what sort of a 
man Lord Southborne is! When I was a girl 
everybody expected that he was going to be the 
man of the day, but he has ended by being a bril- 
liant failure. And then his extravagance! I hear 
that this boy has already a few horses in training 
at Newmarket.” 

Bertha looked at her aunt thoughtfully. Mrs. 
Lingfield was what would be called a sweet-look- 
ing woman of the Madonna type. Though she 
was no longer young, she had abundant hair only 
just sprinkled with grey. Dress with her was a 
passion, and her gowns inclined to the pictur- 
esque ; her jewels were quite beautiful. There was 
nothing peevish or uncharitable about her ex- 
pression; she was one of those women whom peo- 
ple enthusiastically decide must be a delightful 
mother ; yet she had never had a child, and the 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


55 


real instinct of maternity which was so largely a 
part of Bertha Heronworth’s nature had no 
place with her at all. 

“You are going just a little too fast, Aunt 
Edith,” the younger woman said, unable to re- 
press the coldness in her voice. “ Lord Carling- 
ford is dining here just by chance. Drusilla met 
him for the first time last week when she was 
staying with the Deravans at Braske.” 

Mrs. Lingfield smiled. 

“ You see, my dear,” she said, “ I know a little 
bit about these sort of things. As a mattter of 
fact, I heard that he was paying particular at- 
tention to Drusilla at Braske; that was one rea- 
son why I came here to-day. Of course, it is a 
very important matter, and I thought you might 
like to talk it over with me. The position is ex- 
cellent; at the same time one has to be careful.” 

“Yes,” said Bertha, with a catch in her voice 
and a significant half-glance across the room. 

It troubled her that such a delicate subject 
should be discussed by her aunt, and more partic- 
ularly at this moment. 

“ It is, of course, well known that Drusilla will 
be rich,” pursued Mrs. Lingfield, quite imper- 
vious to the hint conveyed in Bertha’s manner. “ I 
mean most people regard Drusilla as a great 
catch. And though I have never really under- 
stood how much exactly poor George left her, 
she is naturally what might be called a very rich 
girl.” 

Bertha Heronworth rose with a quick sigh. 


56 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


She pushed back her chair and walked in her 
halting fashion across the room towards those 
two at the piano. Her gowns in the evening were 
usually black; to-night she wore velvet with a 
beautiful wide collar of old lace, and as Carling- 
ford glanced up and saw her coming, he said to 
her sister : 

“ How charming Miss Heronworth looks! It 
is such a relief to see a woman dressed as she 
dresses. I adore the way she does her hair.” 

“Don’t you like the way I do mine?” asked 
the girl in a sleepy voice. 

And he answered her truthfully: 

“ I don’t know how you do your hair. I never 
know what you wear, I only know that you are 
lovely; amazingly, maddeningly lovely.” 

The girl turned and sat upright in her chair. 

“Bertha, wasn’t that an enchanting song?” 

“ I want to hear it again,” said Bertha Heron- 
worth. 

And her sister knew by the tone in her voice 
that she was not in her customary serene hu- 
mour. 

“ Sing,” she said to the young man, “ sing all 
you know. Bertha will listen and I will go to 
sleep.” 

Lord Carlingford shut down the piano. 

“That is a hint,” he said, and he glanced at the 
clock. “Half-past ten. Miss Heronworth, I 
feel ashamed ; I have already trespassed on your 
kindness far too much to-day.” 

“You have served a very useful purpose,” said 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


57 


Drusilla, getting up out of the chair reluctantly ; 
“ no one goes in that motor-car except when I am 
at home, and it was getting rusty for want of 
use. While you are down here do please make 
your own arrangements with Wilkins, the chauf- 
feur. I am afraid he has a very half-hearted 
opinion of me; but the fact is,” Drusilla said, 
“I’m not really a motorist at all! Tearing 
wildly through the country doesn’t give me the 
slightest pleasure. Indeed, to me there is a sort 
of arrogance, a horrible selfishness, attached to 
a motor-car. I wasn’t happy till I had one, and 
that dear, sweet angel always gives me what I 
want; but now I am not at all sure that our old 
coachman isn’t right, and that there is not more 
dignity and luxury and comfort in an old-fash- 
ioned horse-carriage. Everybody is in such a 
hurry nowadays,” said Drusilla. “ Why do peo- 
ple want to be in a hurry? ” 

“Is there to be no music for me?” inquired 
Bertha, as the young man stood before her and 
held out his hand to say “ Good-bye.” 

“ I really think I must go now, but I will come 
to-morrow if you will let me.” 

Drusilla had moved away; she was walking 
across the room towards her aunt. 

“I want to speak to you alone,” Carlingford 
said to Miss Heronworth. “May I come to- 
morrow?” 

He was looking at her intently, and it seemc I 
to him that her small face had a curious yearning 
in its expression; a look strangely suggestive of 


58 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


pain. There was just a little pause, and then 
Miss Heronworth said: 

“You will find me here all the morning, Lord 
Carlingford.” 

He bent and kissed her hand. He knew she 
was young, that the semblance of maturity about 
her came from her character, from circumstances 
alone, yet at this moment she stood to him in the 
light of Drusilla’s mother. 

He paused to say a few charming words to 
Mrs. Lingfield, hut he had not expected to take 
his farewell of Drusilla in the presence of others. 
The girl, however, elected to dismiss him casu- 
ally. 

“ Good-night,” she said. “ I heard you making 
an assignation with Bertha to-morrow; but, of 
course, we shan’t expect you. You are one of 
those erratic kind of people who are here to-day 
and gone the next, and Heaven knows where you 
will be the day after that! ” 

“I think you will see me,” said Carlingford, 
and then clasping her hand very firmly, he bent 
and kissed her on the brow. 

Mrs. Lingfield gasped as he went out of the 
room. 

“Dear me!” she said. “What queer manners 
you young people have nowadays! Bertha, if 
you don’t mind, I shall go upstairs. I suppose 
Connie is not coming down again; the air here 
always makes me very drowsy! My reel of silk 
has fallen close to your foot; do you mind pick- 
ing it up?” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


59 


Bertha Heronworth obeyed her and wound the 
long stretch of silk carefully round the reel. She 
was not looking at her sister, yet she was per- 
fectly conscious of all that Drusilla did. She had 
heard the little sigh which escaped Drusilla, and 
she had seen the girl take her lace handkerchief 
and rub her brow almost fiercely. She felt rather 
than saw with what an effort Drusilla said 
“ Good-night ” to her aunt, and as soon as she 
had escorted Mrs. Lingfield up the stairs to her 
room Bertha limped back again to the drawing- 
room. She went up to Drusilla, who was stand- 
ing in front of the fire, looking into it with a 
strange expression. 

“ Dearest, my dearest,” she said. “Do you 
care for this man. Oh! Drusilla, I must know, 
he is coming to me to-morrow; he is coming to 
ask me to give you to him, and it is you who 
must answer.” 

Drusilla turned to her sister, her lips were 
quivering. 

“Are you in such a hurry to get rid of me?” 
she said; then her voice broke: “I don’t know 
— I don’t know, Beth. I want him to be just like 
everybody else in my life, but he forces me to see 
that he is different. It was like that the first hour 
we met; there is something strong about him, 
something which fascinates me. I want him 
when he is not here, and yet when we are together 
I feel as if I almost hated him. Oh! I wish he 
hadn’t come ! I did so long to be alone with you 
a little while, I wanted to talk to you about him. 


60 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


I am not sure of myself, Bertha ; and I must be 
sure of myself, mustn’t I?” 

Bertha Heronworth sat down and Drusilla 
fell on her knees beside her sister. 

“Won’t you say all this to him to-morrow? 
Won’t you tell him exactly what I have said?” 
she pleaded. “ He says time means nothing, but 
oh! it does, it does! And I want time. I never 
wanted anything so much as time to think things 
over. You see, you have always done the think- 
ing for me,” said Drusilla, “so you must decide 
now.” She laughed as she spoke, and sat back 
on her heels regarding her sister half shyly, half 
amusedly. 

“You shall have time,” Bertha said after a 
little pause; “ but I don’t really believe you w^nt 
it.” She caught her breath a little as she spoke; 
then she kissed Drusilla many times and then she 
got up. “ At any rate,” she said, “ I am glad 
Uncle Edmund is here. I shall be able to talk 
over everything with him.” 

“Uncle Edmund!” repeated Drusilla; “but 
why? What has he to do with me?” 

“ He is your trustee,” said Bertha. She spoke 
constrainedly: “ Co-trustee with me. He must 
be told. I — I must consult with him.” 

“ You talk as if I were a lease of a house,” said 
Drusilla. 

She was smiling again; all her sunniness had 
come back to her; in fact, she laughed outright, 
and as her sister looked at her she said : 

“Wasn’t Aunt Edith shocked? I believe he 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


61 


kissed me on purpose to make her jump. What 
has she been telling you about him? I know he is 
supposed to be a bold, bad man.” 

“He is certainly bold,” Bertha said, with a 
faint smile ; “ but now, dearest, you ought to go 
to bed. You looked awfully tired when we were 
at dinner, so white that I thought you were ill, 
and you have so much to excite you. I will come 
and say 4 Good-night ’ when you are in bed.” 

44 Bertha,” said the younger girl, as she put 
her arms round her sister, 44 1 do wish we could 
be little children all over again . . . one is never 
responsible for anything when one is a child. Do 
you remember how I used to worry you to let me 
be grown up? Now I should like to be a little 
baby, sleeping all day long in a bassinette. Come 
soon, darling,” said Drusilla, as she picked up her 
fan and gloves and handkerchief, “or else I 
won’t promise to keep awake.” 

Left by herself, Bertha Heron worth stood a 
long time without moving ; then she limped to her 
writing-table. 

She felt cold, and there was a cheerless feeling 
in the air. She could hear Durning, the butler, 
moving about in the hall beyond, waiting to turn 
out the lights. Taking up a pen she wrote hur- 
riedly: 

“Dear Uncle Edmund, — 

“I hope so much you will be better in the 
morning. I want to have a little chat with you 
on a most important matter. It is something 


62 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


which concerns Drusilla — in fact, it has to do 
with her marriage. I suppose I ought to have 
been prepared for this, but, indeed, it has taken 
me by surprise. Drusilla is so young, and some- 
how I have never thought about what I should 
do in circumstances like these ... I hope you 
will be able to relieve my mind of a great sense of 
trouble and anxiety. I know that you will always 
do what is right, but oh! dear Uncle Edmund, I 
pray with all my heart that what we feel is the 
right and just course to take will work out for 
the happiness of my dear, dear child.” 

She scribbled this note, scarcely seeing the 
words inscribed for the mist of tears which 
clouded her eyes. Indeed, she had to pause a 
little while before folding the letter and address- 
ing the envelope. Then she went to the door and 
called in the butler. 

“ Durning,” she said, “ this is a note which must 
be given to Mr. Lingfield early in the morning. 
Will you take it yourself or give it to his man? 
I understand he has brought a new valet this 
time.” 

“Ill give it myself, miss,” Durning said. 
“ Shall I shut up now, miss? ” 

Miss Heronworth said “Yes,” and bade the 
butler “Good-night” in her usual gentle way; 
then went slowly up the stairs to Drusilla’s room. 
It was an old custom with her to go the last thing 
to see that all was well with Drusilla ; to-night it 
cost Bertha Heronworth a great eff ort to bring a 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


63 


smile to her lips and drive the trouble from her 
eyes, and she paused a long while at the girl’s 
door before entering. 

Then when she turned the handle, she found 
all in silence. Drusilla was already asleep. It 
was evident she had tried to wait for Bertha’s 
coming, for the light was still on and a book lay 
on the counterpane, but she was thoroughly tired, 
and sleep had stolen on her unawares. 

Bertha Heronworth would not kiss her for 
fear of rousing her. Her lips trembled and the 
tears came again as she moved softly away. 

“If only she need never know!” she said to 
herself. 


CHAPTER V 


Brian Keston was always up early, and, as a 
rule, had done a vast amount of work before 
breakfast. He made no change in this rule at 
Crowder Chase, although contact with luxury 
awakened in him certain sensations which had 
lain dormant for years. There had, indeed, been 
nothing to soften the ugliness of material life up 
in that little northern town book-shop, and now 
he was conscious in a vaguely resentful way of a 
certain uncouthness in himself, an awkwardness 
which he had never realized before. And yet he 
was not absolutely sure that the life he had lived 
would not prove more sympathetic to him in the 
long run than his present life promised to be. 
He did not want a smooth path. His nature 
craved to struggle with and conquer difficulties. 
A dream with him had always been to travel, to 
find the world in untrodden places, and this rest- 
less desire held him now as keenly as ever. It was 
only when he was alone among the packing- 
cases in the library, handling with wonder their 
marvellous contents, that he drifted into a mood 
that was almost one of satisfaction. Indeed, the 
work was so congenial, so fraught with amaze- 
ment and delight, he lost count of time. He for- 
got everything. 

When Keston went to breakfast, the morning 

64 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 65 

following the arrival of the Lingfields, he found 
a letter which had been forwarded on to him from 
the old shop. Just glancing at it, he put it on 
one side ; he knew its contents. His mother only 
wrote to him when she had need of him; and 
really, considering that she was the wife of a 
fairly rich man, it was surprising how often she 
turned to her son to ask for financial assistance. 
Later, when he was smoking his pipe, standing 
with his back to the fire, Keston took up this let- 
ter. As usual it related a story of petty annoy- 
ance. 

A grim little smile curled the lips of the man 
who read it. It was amusing in a sense to note 
with what dexterity his mother invented new ex- 
planations for her habitual extravagance. Some- 
times he had been asked to help her so that she 
might help one of her family; sometimes the plea 
was that she had such enormous demands for 
charity on her private purse she was left without 
a penny; then apparently a time of depression 
would have necessitated economy on her hus- 
band’s part. 

Lately, she had used her two children — Kes- 
ton’s step-sisters — as an excuse for worrying 
him. The present letter gave a long and ram- 
bling account of the ill-behaviour of a certain 
governess, whose abrupt departure had seemingly 
exhausted Lady Draycott’s financial resources. 

Keston flicked the letter from him with a 
smile and a sigh. By practising the most rigid 
self-denial he had in the last few years managed 


66 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


to scrape together a little money, but his moth- 
er’s constant demands, though they did not run 
to big sums, had made such inroads on this small 
capital that, together with the expenses incidental 
to his taking up his present post, he was left with 
very little in hand. 

There were various reasons why Keston would 
have been glad to have been able to keep his 
mother in ignorance of his present employment. 
In particular, he had a nervous dread lest Lady 
Draycott should take it into her head to pay a 
flying visit to Crowder Chase. She had once, 
long ago, gone to see him in the North, and had 
never repeated the experience, but there was a 
wide difference between that shabby little shop 
and the place where he was now. 

“ And what mother could not possibly grasp,” 
he said to himself, “is the fact that I am just as 
much of a servant here as I was there.” 

It was this straightforwardness, this uncom- 
promising truthfulness of his, which had put a 
barrier between his mother and himself from the 
beginning; and, as time had rolled on, and her 
marriage (which had followed so quickly on her 
widowhood) had put their lives asunder, the 
separation between them had become almost 
absolute. 

He smoked his pipe to the end, pondering and 
frowning a little, whilst Bob stretched himself in 
slumber on the hearthrug, and then, with the 
chiming of the clock, Keston put away his 
thoughts and went back to his work. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


67 


The morning was fairly advanced when there 
came a tap at the library door, and he turned, to 
greet, as he supposed, Miss Heronworth, who 
had joined him each morning for a little while at 
this hour. It was, however, the younger sister 
who appeared. 

“ Good-morning, 1 ” said Drusilla. “May I 
come in and sit here a little while? I shan’t be 
the least bit of a bother, but I do want to know 
something about what is going on.” 

“It is very dusty,” said Keston, in his stiff, 
awkward way; “you will spoil your dress.” 

But Drusilla had caught the folds of her blue- 
serge gown closely about her, revealing two en- 
chantingly pretty feet. 

“I see a chair,” she said, “and it isn’t very 
dusty. Really, Mr. Keston, I promise you I will 
get out of your way the moment you ask me.” 

Keston was very much annoyed at Drusilla’s 
arrival. She was composed of such disturbing 
elements, it was impossible to concentrate his at- 
tention when she was sitting there, the embodi- 
ment of irresponsibility. 

“You know, I felt I had to come here,” said 
Drusilla, after a little pause, in which she had 
studied him attentively. She told herself that 
she liked his features and she liked his voice. He 
had on a long linen coat to protect his clothes 
from the dust, and he managed to appear attract- 
ive even in this very trying garment. 

“You look,” said the girl when she spoke 
again, “just like an umpire at a cricket match.” 


68 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Then very quickly she added: “Do you really 
mind my being here, Mr. Keston? ” 

Before he had time to answer her she said : 

“ The fact is, I wanted some relief. I have had 
Aunt Edith on my shoulders since breakfast- 
time. Connie is with Uncle Edmund, and Beth 
has one of her bad headaches, poor dear! So I 
have been trying to do some of her work — not 
very successfully, I am afraid. It is so natural 
for Beth to be sweet and amiable with people 
even if she doesn’t like them, but I find it an 
awful effort. This doesn’t explain, however, 
does it, why I came here?” Drusilla ended, with 
a laugh. 

She got up from the chair, and sat down on 
the edge of the table. 

“ I want you to coach me, Mr. Keston, to give 
me a few names that I could introduce into my 
conversation,” she laughed. “You see, Aunt 
Edith doesn’t quite approve of this library, and 
she has made up her mind that Beth has paid a 
fancy price for it. It isn’t any business of hers, 
of course, but that doesn’t make any difference 
to Aunt Edith. Now, I want to impress her, to 
let her understand that Beth has done a clever 
stroke of business. I know I can do it if you will 
only help me. What are the biggest things you’ve 
got here? Isn’t there something which no other 
library has got? If there isn’t, please invent that 
something. I’ll be ever so grateful to you, Mr. 
Keston, if you’ll only give me a real, good chance 
of crushing Aunt Edith. She is so nasty to me ! ” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


69 


“I’m afraid names alone won’t carry much 
weight to an expert,” said Keston, still a little 
stiffly. 

“ It isn’t names exactly that I want,” said 
Drusilla; “it is what these biggest things really 
signify in monetary value. Aunt Edith is al- 
ways impressed by pounds, shillings and pence. 
Have you a pencil and some paper? ” 

He gave her his note-book, and, drawing the 
chair up to the table, she sat down with the pencil 
in her mouth, and looked at him. He was con- 
scious then of the illuminating power of her 
beauty. 

It was a cold, grey day, but Drusilla seemed to 
bring warmth and light into the big, as yet 
empty-looking, room. Then, too, she was so 
young. 

There was the eagerness, the spontaneity of a 
child in her expression and manner. 

“ Suppose you tell your aunt that there are no 
less than nine perfect Caxtons in the library, 
worth anything from twenty to thirty thousand 
pounds,” Brian Keston said as a beginning. 

“ I say,” said Drusilla impulsively, “ what a lot 
of money! Caxton? How do you spell it? and 
who was Caxton when he was at home ? But that 
isn’t fair,” she added, with her enchanting laugh. 
“I asked you to coach me, not to educate me. 
Yes; nine Caxtons. Oh, please go on, Mr. Kes- 
ton! This is a splendid beginning!” 

He felt his stiffness thawing; and as he began 
to enumerate a few of the really priceless books 


70 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


which had passed into Bertha Heronworth’s pos- 
session he warmed to the task. 

“Here,” he said, touching one of the huge 
cases, “is a rare collection of things relating to 
the Reformation of the Church of England, and 
here an almost unique collection of the earliest 
books on gardening. Miss Heronworth also pos- 
sesses a copy of the first book printed in England 
with woodcuts, which is in splendid preservation. 
I should imagine there is not another to equal it, 
although it is known that there are one or two 
other copies in existence.” 

He enumerated many others, spelling the dif- 
ferent names for Drusilla to write down. 

“ I shall have to learn this by heart — that is the 
difficulty. I am so horribly stupid at learning 
anything,” the girl said dubiously after a while. 
“Look here. I’ll tell you what you might do; 
just pencil beside all these roughly what you 
think the value of each book is.” 

She gave him the note-book and the pencil. 

“ Isn’t it queer,” she said, after a pause, “ how 
much some people seem to think about money? 
Aunt Edith has been rich all her life, yet nothing 
impresses her so much as a large banking ac- 
count. When she sees a wonderful cathedral she 
never realizes it is beautiful — she only wonders 
how much it cost to build; and Uncle Edmund is 
so different! I do hope you’ll like him, Mr. Kes- 
ton; he is an enthusiast about books.” 

“I hope he is better,” said Keston, reverting 
a little to his awkward manner. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


71 


“ I am afraid he isn’t. I went to his room this 
morning, but my cousin said he wasn’t well 
enough to see me. I call Connie my cousin, but 
there isn’t really any relationship, and Uncle 
Edmund is only our uncle by marriage. He is, 
anyhow, much, much nearer to us, and so is Con- 
nie, than Aunt Edith ever could be.” 

Brian Keston stood making calculations and 
marking figures in a note-book, and Drusilla, 
looking at him, recalled her aunt’s chatter about 
him. 

“Of course, I knew he was a gentleman,” she 
mused to herself, “but I didn’t think there was 
anything romantic about him. That only shows 
how little we know other people. I wonder what 
I should do if I lost all I had? I am sure I should 
make a helpless muddle of things! No wonder 
he looks hard. It must make him bitter to feel 
that his father died because he trusted all he had 
to a friend. I was going to call him a prig, but 
now I shan’t ! ” 

As she sat waiting for Mr. Keston to give her 
back the note-book, there came a knock at the 
door, and Durning, the butler, appeared. 

“ Lord Carlingford — he is waiting in the hall, 
Miss Drusilla.” 

Drusilla uttered an impatient exclamation, and 
pushed back her chair so sharply that it scratched 
on the floor. 

“He has come to see Miss Heronworth, not 
me,” she said. 

The butler answered: 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


72 

“ I told him as Miss Heronworth was in her 
room ill, and he asked for you, miss.” 

“ How tiresome! ” 

She sat frowning and tapping her foot for a 
little while, then she glanced at Keston, and a 
mischievous glint came into her eyes. 

“Bring Lord Carlingford here,” she said, and 
she sat humming to herself till the door was 
opened again, then she got up languidly. 

“How do you do, Lord Carlingford?” she 
said. “Isn’t it cold? . . . Beth is in bed . . . 
sensible Beth! ... I think you know Mr. Kes- 
ton.” 

Carlingford looked extremely cross. 

“ Your sister asked me to come this morning! ” 
he said, as shortly as courtesy would permit. 

“Did she? I am so sorry you should have had 
such a very cold drive all for nothing. But really 
she has an awful head — she isn’t shamming. Beth 
couldn’t sham if she tried ever so . . . not like 
me! Now, Lord Carlingford, you have to be im- 
mensely impressed, if you please. Here you find 
yourself in the presence of the great Caroby 
library, which my sister has just bought. You 
really ought to make a bow all round.” 

Carlingford stood stiffly by the fire and looked 
at her, not at the huge packing-cases or the empty 
shelves waiting to be filled. He had seen as he 
had entered that Drusilla was not alone; and 
though he had vouchsafed the scantiest of greet- 
ings to Keston he was acutely conscious that the 
other man was not one to be ignored. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 73 

“ Can I ask you to take a message to your sis- 
ter? ” he queried after a little pause. 

Drusilla shook her head. 

“Oh, I never disturb Beth when she is not 
well. Do you want her to do something? Won’t 
I do?” 

The young man bit his lip, and then he took a 
bold step. 

“You know perfectly well why I am here, 
Drusilla,” he said. 

The girl had sat down again, but now she got 
up precipitately. 

“ Suppose you go back to the hall. We are just 
an awful nuisance to Mr. Keston. I can see him 
scowling, though he pretends to be amiable.” 
She paused, on her way to the door, close to Brian 
Keston. “ It has been so awfully good of you to 
help me. I can’t begin to thank you properly, 
Mr. Keston,” she said. “ I am going to startle 
Aunt Edith. I shall work in all this knowledge 
in the most cunning way possible. Are you sure 
I may keep this note-book? ” 

Drusilla hummed under her breath as she led 
the way to the hall, but about Lord Carlingford 
there was an ominous silence. 

“ Now, won’t you take off your coat and make 
yourself ever so comfortable? I won’t promise 
to amuse you — I never am amusing when there 
is a fog — but we’ve got all the illustrated papers, 
and I give you permission to flirt with Aunt 
Edith. Perhaps if you wait a little while Beth 
will be well enough to come down and see you.” 


74 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

Carlingford stood half a moment irresolutely, 
then he gripped her by the wrist. 

“Why did you shut yourself up with that 
man? ” he asked. “ Do you think that it is a right 
thing that you should be there alone for hours? ” 

Drusilla caught her breath just for an instant, 
as if she were a little afraid, and then she 
laughed. 

“Oh, my dear, good, kind gentleman,” she 
said, “don’t exaggerate! When you know me a 
little better you will realize that I never stay 
hours in any one place, or with any one person. 
You don’t know how bored I get with things and 
people.” 

There was a black look on the young man’s 
face; but there was something more — a look of 
entreaty, almost a look of pain. 

“Your sister promised to see me this morn- 
ing,” Carlingford said, “ to receive from me what 
you have received already — a proposition that 
you should become my wife.” 

Drusilla had taken her hand away from his, 
and was rubbing the wrist softly. 

“Well, it is a great pity Beth has such a bad 
headache,” she said. Then her eyes gleamed. “ I 
wonder — yes, I do wonder — if she hasn’t, just 
for once, invented that she is ill! She is such a 
kind-hearted creature, and she does hate saying 
‘No’ so badly.” 

She moved to the fireplace, picked up a log, and 
flung it on to the flames. 

“And of course that is what she would have 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 75 

been obliged to say. She would have done it very 
prettily, but ” 

“There isn’t going to be any question of 
‘No/ ” said Carlingford, in the quietest way pos- 
sible; “and somehow I think your sister realizes 
that.’’ 

Drusilla caught her breath rather sharply. 

“But truly and truly I don’t want to marry 
you or anybody,” she said. “ O. B., I don’t.” 

“ I repeat, you are going to marry me,” replied 
the man, “before Christmas.” 

Drusilla literally shivered. 

“On the contrary, I mean to have a happy 
Christmas. I want to be ever so jolly, and how 
can one be jolly when one is married? It is my 
firm belief that you are in the habit of going 
round arranging to be married to some one each 
Christmas-time, Lord Carlingford. It isn’t at 
all a bad idea ! Makes a little excitement, doesn’t 
it?” 

Lord Carlingford had slipped out of his heavy 
coat, and was standing quite close to her in front 
of the fire. 

“When I leave here to-morrow,” he said, “I 
shall go to Yorkshire, just tell my people all 
about you, and then come back and take you 
there.” 


CHAPTER VI 

Drusilla laughed half humorously and half 
angrily. 

“You really are too absurd for words!” she 
declared. “ It has taken me a whole morning to 
try and root out of Aunt Edith’s mind certain 
objectionable ideas about you and about me. It 
wasn’t nice of you, you know, to do what you did 
last night. You can’t imagine how shocked Beth 
was, and it was such a blow, too, because I had 
been telling her what nice manners you had ; how 
well you had been educated, and ” 

The sentence finished abruptly, for suddenly 
Drusilla found herself in Lord Carlingford’s 
arms. He held her as in a vise. 

“You are going to be serious for once, sweet- 
heart,” he said. “ You are going to hear me tell 
you that I love you; that I mean to marry you; 
and you — you are going to tell me the same 
thing.” 

Drusilla’s lips quivered; she tried to refute 
this, but she could not utter a word. 

It was an alarming and yet a delicious sensation, 
to be held in that firm embrace. He was her 
master in this moment, and she recognized 
vaguely there was an extraordinary amount of 
happiness attached to her submission. Still, in 

76 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


77 


her mischievous way (and yet not wholly in mis- 
chief) she played with the situation. 

“You can’t make me say things that are not 
true,” she answered him, “ although you can of 
course squash me up because you are so much 
stronger.” 

Then, very hurriedly: “Oh, please do let me 
go! Somebody may come in! We — we — look 
so idiotic.” 

But he only tightened his hold. 

“ I don’t care who comes,” he said; “the more 
the better! I want everybody to know that we 
belong to one another, and that in as short a time 
as possible we shall be man and wife.” 

Then he stooped, and kissed her on her brow, 
on her eyes, and finally on her lips. 

“Tell me once, only once, that you care for 
me,” he entreated. 

But Drusilla laughed — a broken, little laugh. 

“How can I tell you I care for you when I 
am getting an awful crick in my back, and you 
are choking all the breath out of me?” 

Carlingford bent his head, not to kiss her this 
time, but to look into her eyes steadily, so steadily 
that Drusilla could not return his gaze. Then he 
smiled and loosened his arm. 

“ You can go,” he said. “ After all, I am satis- 
fied.” 

The girl laughed nervously. 

“ Are you ? Really you are a lucky person.” 

She rubbed her hand up and down the back of 
her neck. 


78 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“ It is so stiff, ” she said, “ I shall be obliged to 
sit with my back to somebody for the rest of the 
day. I can’t turn my head.” Then suddenly she 
threw herself into an armchair. “Now 1 am 
going to probe this matter,” she declared. “ As 
you are certain you are going to marry me, there 
are some things I want to know. Prepare your- 
self. I am going to ask you some perfectly odi- 
ous questions!” 

Carlingford was smiling now. 

“ Fire away,” he said. 

“Well, to start with,” said Drusilla, “do you 
think I am nice really, or only because I happen 
to have a certain amount of money? Don’t shoot 
me,” she finished, with a laugh. 

He did not answer her at once; a wave of hot 
colour had swept over his face; then he said 
with dignity : 

“ Money in connection with you has had no 
existence in my thoughts, and never could have 
any connection.” 

Drusilla felt she ought to have made an apol- 
ogy, but she did not. 

“ Very well, then: we will pass on. Question 
number two: are you making love to me (I be- 
lieve that is the right phrase, isn’t it?) because 
you’ve been jilted and you want to vex some 
other woman?” 

He laughed so heartily at this that Drusilla 
made haste to get to her third, question. 

“ This you are not bound to answer,” she said, 
“but I feel it is my duty to myself to ask it.” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


79 


She paused irresolutely, and then said: “Am I 
the only woman you have ever loved ?” 

And, laughing still, he said, in the promptest 
way possible : 

“Oh, dear no! I have been in love scores of 
times. I can’t begin to count how many ! ” 

To this Miss Drusilla Heronworth said 
“Oh!” in a rather peculiar tone; and Carling- 
ford, putting on rather a grave expression, 
asked her : 

“ Shall I tell you about just a few?” 

She said “No!” a second time, and rather 
sharply added: “I am not a bit interested.” 

“ That is the right view,” said Carlingford. 

He dropped into a chair close to hers, and took 
one of her small hands in both of his. 

“Nothing of what has gone matters in the 
least. I am thirty-three years old, Drusilla, and I 
have had a fairly busy time, but I give you my 
word of honour I never knew what it was to love 
in the real sense of the word until I met you. Yes- 
terday you called me cruel, and I do believe I 
have been cruel. What is more, I know I could 
be cruel to anything or anyone who tried to 
divide us, but I’m something better than that, 
and so you will find out if you only treat me well. 
You are going to treat me well, aren’t you, 
Drusilla?” 

“I won’t make any rash promises,” the girl 
said. Nevertheless, she let him hold her hand, 
and they sat in silence for the length of one 
moment, and then Drusilla said, with a touch of 


80 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


gravity in her voice: “You know, I don’t really 
want to be rude or anything like that, but I do 
feel that you are making a mistake.” 

“In what way, dearest?” Carlingford asked. 

Drusilla did not answer him in direct fashion. 

“You don’t know me, I don’t know you. You 
say time doesn’t count, but I am very much 
afraid it does. Wouldn’t it be awful if — say, in 
six months — you realized that I was the one per- 
son on earth you hated most?” 

He laughed at this, but she still looked serious. 

“But that is the sort of thing that does hap- 
pen over and over again ; everybody will tell you 
so. The proper sort of marriage is one,” said Dru- 
silla wisely, “ when two people have known each 
other for ages and ages, and have got so tired 
of each other’s faults that they really haven’t 
got the spirit to quarrel with one another.” 

“ The proper sort of marriage,” said Carling- 
ford, “is that in which two people love each 
other and grow together in sympathy closer and 
closer, as they grow older.” 

“Well,” said Drusilla, “if I have to marry 
you I want a five years’ engagement.” 

“ Five weeks’, you mean,” he answered. 

He was kissing her hand, and he now held it 
a little way off, and looked at it admiringly. 

“How pretty it is!” he said. “And yet it is 
a very capable hand. It looks as if you could 
he quite resolute.” 

“ That is what I have been trying to impress 
on you these two last days,” said Drusilla; then 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


81 


she took her hand away from him abruptly, and 
changed her tone. “ Here comes Aunt Edith,” 
she said. 

“ In time to give us her blessing,” Carlingford 
added, as he rose to his feet. 

But Mrs. Lingfield did not encourage any 
confidences, neither had she a benedictory ex- 
pression. 

She came, it appeared, to look for a certain 
newspaper, accepting Lord Carlingford’s futile 
exertions to find this paper with a smile on her 
lips which made Drusilla want to shake her. 

As she went away, Mrs. Lingfield said: “I 
am going to see how poor Beth is. I thought 
her looking so terribly ill last night.” 

Drusilla sighed sharply. 

“ That is a slap at me,” she said. “ I am sup- 
posed to be neglecting Beth. Though she hasn’t 
said it openly, I know Aunt Edith was furious 
because I went away this summer, and specially 
furious because I stayed at Braske. She always 
wants to go there herself ; and Kitty Deravan 
won’t ask her.” 

Before her lover could say anything, the girl 
had gone on rather hotly: 

“It is not true! Beth is not ill. Headaches 
are not serious. Oh ! ” — she caught in her breath 
sharply — “oh, I couldn’t bear to be happy if 
Beth were ill!” 

Carlingford possessed himself of her hands 
once again. 

“ Then you are a little bit happy?” 


82 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“Just a little bit/’ said Drusilla. And she 
blushed as she made the confession. Then she 
said: “You’ll lunch here, of course? I must go 
up and look after Beth. Aunt Edith isn’t quite 
the sort of person one wants to have about one 
when one has a bad headache. Sit here, and I’ll 
send Connie to keep you company; but you 
won’t flirt with her, will you?” 

She laughed as she drifted out of his touch, 
and ran lightly up the oaken staircase. At the 
bend she stood and waved her hand at him, and 
at the top she ran into Miss Lingfield, who was 
dressed for walking. 

“ Oh, Connie,” said Drusilla, sitting down on 
the top stair and pulling the other girl down be- 
side her. “ I’ve been and gone and done it! I’m 
engaged! Do I look different? I suppose I ought 
to feel very big and important. On the con- 
trary, I seem to have grown smaller and 
smaller.” 

Connie Lingfield kissed her. 

“ I am awfully glad, Drusilla. I like him ever 
so much.” 

“I don’t mean to tell Aunt Edith anything 
about it until she goes away. I mean that things 
are definitely settled. I want to scandalize her,” 
said Drusilla, with a laugh. “I feel somehow 
that she would be obliged to say that she disap- 
proved of him, and that would vex her hor- 
ribly.” 

“Oh, I don’t think you need he afraid of 
that,” said Miss Lingfield, as she got up. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“Mother has a few weaknesses, you know, and 
it isn’t only Americans' who love a lord.” 

“ That is very true,” said Drusilla, getting up 
too. Then she said : “ Connie, the queer thing is 
that I never stopped to realize what a big, im- 
portant person Jim is! You have just opened 
my eyes. I believe I shall go down and tell him 
I shan’t have him.” 

“ I would if I were you,” said Miss Lingfield; 
“it will make such a lot of impression on him.” 

“ I don’t want to be a big, important person,” 
said Drusilla. “ One never seems to live for one- 
self ; everybody has the right to look in on the 
domestic career of important people.” 

“Well, that will make you careful,” laughed 
the other girl. Then she put her arms round 
Drusilla and kissed her a second time most 
tenderly. “ Leave all those things to him, leave 
everything to him. I’ve always felt that you 
wanted some one just like Lord Carlingford to 
take care of you, Drusilla; and now you’ve got 
him, and I congratulate you with all my heart.” 

“Connie is a duck!” said Drusilla to herself, 
as she went along the passage to her sisters 
room. She knocked first and then turned the 
handle. 

Miss Heronworth was not visible, but her 
maid was in the room, and told Miss Drusilla 
that her mistress had gone to sit with Mr. Ling- 
field half an hour ago. 

“ All right, then. I’ll wait for her,” said Dru- 
silla. 


84 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


She sat down in the armchair by the fire. She 
had a great affection for her sister’s bedroom, it 
was such a contrast to her own. 

Bertha had lavished every sort of pretty 
ornament on Drusilla; her own apartment was 
rather old-fashioned, and almost austere. 

The furniture was that which had been in the 
room for certainly two generations, and there 
was a large, old writing-bureau, on which papers 
were stacked with methodical neatness, and a 
basket containing the morning’s delivery placed 
where it would receive immediate attention. 

“I hope,” Drusilla said, suddenly addressing 
the maid, “that Miss Heronworth has not been 
writing this morning?” 

“Indeed, and she has, miss! There was such 
a lot of things come for her that she said she 
must answer. The usual begging-letters, miss 
— most of them. Some pretty bad cases, too, 
if what was written was true.” 

“Poor souls!” said Drusilla involuntarily. 

She sat on after the maid had gone away, and 
looked at the old writing-table. She had seen it 
almost every day, ever since she could remember 
anything very clearly, but somehow the signifi- 
cance of its mission had never touched her till 
now. 

The fact was that Drusilla had never been 
taught to think very seriously about those mat- 
ters which constitute the real meaning of life to 
the majority of human beings. Like most peo- 
ple who are surrounded from childhood with 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


85 


everything that money can buy, her comprehen- 
sion of the power of this money was stunted. 
Vaguely she knew, of course, that whilst she 
lived like a young princess there were thousands 
and thousands who toiled to earn a living, but she 
had never troubled herself about those other peo- 
ple; never entered, or even tried to share, her 
sister’s busy life, with its unceasing flow of char- 
ity. And now, by a strange conglomeration of 
little circumstances, Drusilla felt that she was 
awakening, as it were, from a long sleep. 

When she had sat talking with her aunt, lis- 
tening to the story of that commercial disaster 
which had ended so tragically for Brian Keston’s 
father, and again when she had sat fencing, as it 
were, with her aunt on the subject of her own 
probable marriage, there had come to Drusilla 
that sense of smallness of which she had spoken 
to Connie Lingfield. It lingered now. She felt 
suddenly nervous, and for some unaccountable 
reason a little afraid; and into this troubled sen- 
sation there came a great yearning for her sister. 

“ I do wish Beth would come! ” she said to her- 
self. “If she doesn’t come in five minutes I will 
go to Uncle Edmund’s room. I haven’t seen 
him yet.” But as she moved restlessly in the 
chair the door opened, and Bertha Heronworth 
came in. 


CHAPTER VII 


Miss Heronworth certainly looked as if she 
had a very bad headache. 

“ Here you are, darling! ” cried Drusilla. “ I 
hoped you were resting. And Catherine tells 
me you have been doing your usual morning’s 
work. Why don’t you rest a little while. 

The younger girl took her sister into her arms, 
and held her caressingly. 

“You never came to say ‘ good-night,’ ” she 
said. “ I waited ever so long, and at last I had 
to go to sleep.’’ 

“ I am so sorry,” said Bertha Heronworth. 

As she took herself away from her sister’s em- 
brace she looked at Drusilla. There was an 
expression in her eyes which both puzzled and 
hurt Drusilla. 

“ Jim — I mean Lord Carlingford — is here, and 
I’ve asked him to stay to lunch; but you needn’t 
bother to come down. Aunt Edith can chaper- 
one us. By the way, Beth,” Drusilla added, 
“ she was coming to you : that’s why I hurried up 
to protect you.” 

“ I haven’t seen her this morning,” said Miss 
Heronworth. “ Catherine kept my door locked; 
my headache was very bad, but it is almost gone 
now, and I shall certainly come down to lunch. 
I want to see Lord Carlingford.” 

86 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 87 

“ And he wants to see you,” said Drusilla. 

The sisters stood an instant looking at one 
another, then Bertha drew Drusilla to her, and 
kissed her almost passionately: 

“And you are going to be happy — you are 
going to be very, very happy?” 

“ I am not going to be,” said Drusilla with a 
little laugh — “I am very happy! Of course, I 
am not quite used to the idea of belonging to 
somebody else, but I shall get accustomed to it; 
and he is rather a dear, isn’t he, Beth?” 

“Uncle Edmund has been telling me a little 
about him. You know, he is an old friend of 
Lord Southborne, and he has known Carling- 
ford since he was a lad.” 

“And so Uncle Edmund approves, and the 
lease can be signed? ” 

“ Uncle Edmund wants you to be happy. He 
is very fond of you, Drusilla. I never realized 
how much he cared about you until this morn- 
ing” 

“ It seems to me,” said Drusilla, “ I’ve got just 
a little bit too much. To make matters just, I 
ought to share things with some other girl, 
oughtn’t I?” 

“ If you feel that you have so much, darling,” 
said Bertha, in a low voice, “you can always 
share with others, and find a joy in doing it.” 

She did not speak very evenly, and tears 
seemed perilously near her eyes. 

It was a new thing for Drusilla to see her 
sister in this nervous, agitated condition. Miss 


88 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Heronworth was generally so calm, there was 
about her a seriousness which gave her, as Lord 
Carlingford had once remarked, a maturity far 
beyond her years. To-day she seemed to have 
passed through a nerve-storm, to be even at this 
moment bracing herself up as though to face 
some ordeal. Though Drusilla did not grasp 
this fully, she still was sensible that there was 
about her sister an element which was new to her 
and disturbing, and, as certain ideas flashed sud- 
denly through her mind, she turned to Bertha. 

“It is true I am happy,” Drusilla said; “but 
you have always come first with me, Beth, and I 
want you to know that nothing will change my 
love for you.” 

“Do you think I doubt that?” asked Bertha. 

She rallied herself very quickly. 

“You mustn’t put wrong ideas into your 
mind,” she said. “I feel a little bit upset be- 
cause Uncle Edmund looks so terribly ill. It 
seems that he has these heart attacks so fre- 
quently now, he really ought not to have under- 
taken this journey yesterday; but, as I told you 
last night, he seems to have had a great longing 
to see us both, and that is why he came.” 

“Well, I am glad he did come,” said Drusilla, 
“because we can nurse him, and take ever so 
much care of him, dear old thing! ” 

“Now, darling, don’t let me keep you,” said 
Bertha. “Please tell Lord Carlingford that he 
will see me at luncheon.” 

“ I think I will put on my things,” said Dru- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


89 


silla. “We shall just have time to walk to the 
village and meet Connie. Don’t let Aunt Edith 
come in here to worry you, Beth.” 

“ Oh, I can take care of myself I ” Bertha said, 
with a little laugh. 

She watched Drusilla pass out of the door, and 
as she was alone she put one hand to her brow, 
and the other to her heart. 

“ It is done now,” she said, “ and we can’t undo 
it. God forgive me if I am doing wrong in 
keeping the truth from Drusilla 1” 


CHAPTER VIII 


As Drusilla left her sister’s room and went in 
the direction of her own she passed the apart- 
ment occupied by Mr. Lingfield. Just for an 
instant she hesitated, then she passed on. 

“ No; I won’t go now. I’ll get Connie to take 
me to see Uncle Edmund this afternoon.” 

The door of the room adjoining that of Mr. 
Lingfield’s was opened just as Drusilla was mov- 
ing past it. The girl, however, did not notice 
that her aunt, catching sight of her, had with- 
drawn quickly and closed the door cautiously. 

There was a flushed look on Mrs. Lingfield’s 
comely face, and in her eyes a curious expression, 
a nervous, strained look, and yet a look of ex- 
citement, as she went back to the chair on which 
she had been sitting. 

On leaving Drusilla and Lord Carlingford, 
Mrs. Lingfield had carried out her stated inten- 
tion, and had gone to pay a visit to her niece. 
Miss Heronworth’s maid informed her that her 
mistress was sitting with Mr. Lingfield. The 
information annoyed Mrs. Lingfield. She was 
one of those persons who, though so richly en- 
dowed both physically and materially, was con- 
stitutionally suspicious and jealous at every 
turn. 


[90 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


91 


Just as she had always resented Bertha’s inher- 
itance of her father’s enormous wealth, so she 
had been jealous of the deep bond of affection 
which had existed from the very first between 
Edmund Lingfield and Bertha; and for some 
reason, which she would have found very hard 
to explain, she now flamed into anger at the idea 
that there might be some matter to be discussed 
between her husband and her niece about which 
she knew nothing. 

To a mind set in this fashion it was very easy 
to jump to conclusions; and as she left Bertha 
Heronworth’s room and walked slowly towards 
her husband’s, there flashed back to Mrs. Ling- 
field’s thoughts the remembrance that when she 
had gone in early that morning to inquire how 
her husband was, and what sort of night he had 
passed, she had seen him take up a note which 
had been lying on a table near, and push it under 
the pillow. As the morning’s post had brought 
nothing either for Mr. Lingfield or herself, it 
was very evident that this note had been written 
by some one in the house. Of course, Mrs. Ling- 
field did not for one single instant imagine that 
there could be anything of a mysterious nature 
which Bertha would have to discuss with Mr. 
Lingfield. At the same time, recalling the nerv- 
ous irritation with which Bertha had listened to 
her remarks about Lord Carlingford the night 
before, Mrs. Lingfield shrewdly guessed that, 
if any counsel were to be asked, Bertha would 
not turn to her. 


92 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


As she reached her husband s door his valet 
emerged from the dressing-room. 

“Where are you going?” asked Mrs. Ling- 
field, in her sharp way. 

The servant explained that his master had de- 
sired him to go below, as he wished to be left 
alone with Miss Heronworth. 

This was naturally quite enough for Mrs. 
Lingfield. She waited until the man was out of 
sight, and then she crept very quietly into the 
dressing-room and closed the door. Her heart 
was beating very quickly. Like most people who 
do mean actions, she had no desire to be discov- 
ered in the act of doing them. 

At the same time she was fully resolved now 
on hearing what Bertha had to say to her hus- 
band. At first she had imagined that the door 
leading into the bedroom was closed, but as she 
sat down and held her breath she noticed that it 
was only shut to, and that the voices from within 
could be heard quite distinctly. Mrs. Lingfield 
sat motionless for quite twenty minutes. The 
words she overheard were so unexpected, the 
subject so little dreamed of, that at first she felt 
almost stunned; then little by little her faculties 
emerged from that trance-like sensation; thought 
became active, excitement ran like fever in her 
veins, and amazement, condemnation, and a curi- 
ous kind of triumph fought for mastery. For 
once in her life her suspicion, which as a rule was 
so groundless, so contemptible, had been surpris- 
ingly justified. But in the place of jealousy 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


93 


there arose an overwhelming flood of righteous 
indignation. 

Mrs. Lingfield prided herself upon being a 
woman with plenty of common sense, and cer- 
tainly she was by no means a fool, but it seemed 
to her now, as she sat listening breathlessly and 
eagerly, that an unpardonable affront had been 
offered to her shrewd mind; that the secret which 
Bertha and Edmund Lingfield had guarded so 
carefully and now were discussing so tenderly, 
was a wrong done, to herself first of all, and then 
to the world in general. She held herself very 
still as she heard Bertha take a temporary fare- 
well of her uncle, and then go away. 

Mrs. Lingfield was not prepared to confront 
her husband immediately. As a matter of fact, 
she hardly knew what attitude she intended to 
take. The discovery she had made, though it 
did not really touch her own interests intimately, 
was yet of so important a nature that she could 
hardly fail to regard it as a personal matter; and 
then, associated with it were so many, many emo- 
tions, so much that would require meditation. 
She hardly knew how long she sat after Bertha’s 
departure, but when she rose at last, and moved 
cautiously to the door leading to the passage, the 
last person she desired to meet was Drusilla ; and, 
as she drew back quickly to avoid being seen by 
the girl, the wave of resentful bitterness which 
swept over her made her tremble from head to 
foot. 

Happily, Drusilla went her way, ignorant of 


94 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


the malevolent forces already at work to under- 
mine that happiness which was so sweet, so new, 
so bewildering. 

As she joined Carlingford in the hall, and they 
went out into the bleak, cold morning together, 
Drusilla felt that sense of confidence, with which 
the man had inspired her from the first, 
strengthen and deepen. 

“ I didn’t want you, and I never, never thought 
for an instant that you wanted me; but now that 
you have made me see things with your eyes, I 
really think I like you very much,” she remarked, 
after a while. 

“You haven’t any more questions to ask me, 
I suppose?” demanded Carlingford. 

“Oh, heaps,” said Drusilla; “tiresome ques- 
tions too, all on the same theme — you, me and the 
future.” 

“Are you so afraid of the future, then?” 

“ Just a little bit, because, you see, I have never 
thought about it one way or another till now. I 
have had my eyes shut to all that is real. Beth 
has kept me a baby. It is my private opinion 
that she would have liked to have kept me a baby 
always. I’ll tell you one view of the future that 
I should like to think was possible. Couldn’t we 
work, couldn’t we do something together? Beth 
does such an awful lot of good — I should like to 
do good, too.” 

“Well, you will have three people to help you 
— your sister, my mother, and myself. I got 
tired of doing nothing in a picturesque way a 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


95 


long time ago. We’ll plan out all sorts of 
things.” 

And so they talked, mingling tenderness and 
nonsense and seriousness, as they wended their 
way through the country roads. 

They quite forgot to look for Miss Lingfield, 
a fact which was brought home to them when 
they all assembled a little later at luncheon. 

“You know, of course, we have been to the 
village to meet you,” said Drusilla; “and we 
thought the earth must have opened and swal- 
lowed you up, for we couldn’t see a sign of you.” 

Connie Lingfield laughed at this. 

“ I don’t believe you went to the village at all,” 
she said, “ and I am quite, quite sure you never 
thought about me.” 

At which Drusilla laughed, too, and blushed. 

“Connie dear, that is rude,” she said, and in 
the same breath she added: “but it is quite true. 
I really did forget all about you.” 

She sat near her sister, and every now and then 
cuddled her hands in Bertha’s. 

Mrs. Lingfield and Lord Carlingford carried 
on a conversation which dealt chiefly with well- 
known people. She was gracious enough to the 
young man, but she managed, in the cleverest 
way possible, to make Drusilla a little uncom- 
fortable. 

“ It is awfully silly of me,” said the girl to her- 
self. “ I ought to be well used to Aunt Edith 
and her ways by this time, but I do wish she 
wouldn’t be so catty to-day! If people only 


96 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

knew how easy it was to be nice, I don’t think 
they’d ever be nasty.” 

After luncheon the elder Miss Heronworth 
and Lord Carlingford sat and talked together in 
the drawing-room, and Drusilla hoped for half 
an hours pleasant chat with Connie; but Mrs. 
Lingfield had other views for her stepdaughter. 

“Please come upstairs with me, Connie. I 
want you to write some letters,” she said, “and 
then you ought to read to your father.” 

“Oh, do let me do that!” interposed Drusilla 
eagerly. “I adore reading aloud, and Uncle 
Edmund always says he likes to listen to me.” 

“My dear Drusilla,” said Mrs. Lingfield, 
“you mustn’t usurp everything. I am sure if 
Edmund wants you he will ask for you.” 

“Now, there,” said Drusilla to herself as she 
was left alone in the hall, standing in front of 
the log fire — “ there is another nasty slap ! What 
have I done to make Aunt Edith so disagree- 
able? Well, never mind; she doesn’t count for 
very much ! ” 

She laughed as she wheeled round and picked 
up her sables, then she caught sight of Mr. Kes- 
ton’s note-book lying on the broad mantelshelf. 
“ I must give this back to him,” she said. 

She took it up and opened it almost without 
thinking. 

“How methodical he is!” she said to herself, 
“ and he was very kind. I think he is only shy, 
and I don’t suppose he quite understands my 
peculiar little ways.” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


97 


As she was closing the note-book it slipped 
from her hand; and when she stooped to pick it 
up she saw that a thin card had fallen from it. 
This card was worn and faded and the heading 
caught Drusilla’s eyes : 

“ Of your charity, pray for the soul of Rich- 
ard Marchmont Keston. ,, 

Colouring hotly as though she had looked on 
some sacred secret, Drusilla slipped the card once 
again into the shabby note-book. The fact that 
Brian Keston carried about with him always 
this little reminder of his father impressed her 
sharply and pathetically. 

“At least he does not forget easily,” she said 
to herself. 


CHAPTER IX 


Lord Carlingford left for Yorkshire that 
same afternoon. Drusilla parted with him re- 
luctantly. 

“I feel,” she said, “as if you were going 
on an expedition to the North Pole; and, really, 
this home journey of yours is a bit of an adven- 
ture, isn’t it? Suppose you find yourself ice- 
bound in your family’s disapproval? They may 
not want to have anything to say to me, you 
know.” 

But Lord Carlingford went away in the high- 
est spirits. It would make absolutely no differ- 
ence to him if his parents were to object to his 
choice of a wife; but, as a matter of fact, untitled 
though they were, the Heronworths, apart from 
their wealth, were the equal of any man. 

“ I shall be back the day after to-morrow,” he 
said. “Have all your boxes packed. I would 
take you with me now, only I don’t think it is 
fair to your sister. You see, we have churned 
her up a little bit. She told me just now she had 
not even begun to think of your marriage.” 

“No; I know she hasn’t,” Drusilla answered. 
“All this is a great surprise to her, and to me 
too. Perhaps when you are in Yorkshire I shall 
change my mind.” 


98 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


99 


But her heart went with him. Indeed, she felt 
terribly lonely when he was gone, and sought 
consolation from Connie Lingfield. 

As they sat in front of the fire on the hearth- 
rug, Drusilla sighed several times. 

“Connie,” she said, “love is a very beautiful 
thing, but it is also rather terrible. I feel fright- 
ened.” 

The other girl laughed. 

“Frightened, dearest! Why, what have you 
to be afraid of?” 

“Nothing, and yet everything,” answered 
Drusilla. “Now I begin to understand what 
Kitty Deravan meant when she was talking to 
me the other day about her children. She said: 
‘I love them so much there are times when I 
wish they had never come to me.’ That is how I 
feel to-night.” 

“Cheer up,” said Miss Lingfield brightly. 
“ You are going to have the loveliest of lives, with 
nothing morbid or disappointing in it. You 
know what the song says: ‘Love is meant to 
make us glad/ ” 

Drusilla sat and stared into the fire for two 
whole moments, and then she sprang to her feet. 

“I believe you are right, Connie, and I am 
glad to be ever so glad; that is,” she added, “if 
Aunt Edith will let me.” 

Though Miss Lingfield laughingly disposed 
of any really inimical feeling on her stepmother s 
part, she had been struck that evening by the 
marked manner in which Mrs. Lingfield avoided 


100 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


conversation with Drusilla, and refrained from 
discussing the event of the moment. 

Connie was secretly delighted that Drusilla 
had shown outwardly no sign of irritation or an- 
noyance, but she was quick to notice that her 
stepmother’s manner had very evidently dis- 
turbed Bertha Heron worth; and, as a matter of 
fact, Connie herself had never known her father’s 
wife in such a mood as that which had prevailed 
with her on this evening. The girl could only 
conjecture that, ridiculous as it might seem, the 
older woman was really jealous of Drusilla’s bril- 
liant prospects. 

All through the next day, however, this same 
strained, semi-hostile note characterized Mrs. 
Lingfield’s attitude towards her younger niece. 
When telegrams came from Yorkshire, followed 
by jewels sent from London, Mrs. Lingfield ex- 
pressed neither interest, pleasure, nor curiosity; 
and if it had not been for the presence of her 
father at dinner that night, Connie Lingfield 
would have found it very hard to have kept the 
ball of conversation rolling. It was Drusilla 
who really begged the girl to come to her rescue. 
She sought Connie in her bedroom, in the early 
morning of the day on which Carlingford was to 
come back to her, and she carried with her a letter 
from his mother (sweet and tender, and even 
loving), and a very pleasantly worded one from 
his father. \ 

Nothing prettier than Drusilla in her rose- 
coloured silk dressing-gown, and her beautiful 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


101 


hair, pinned in picturesque disorder about her 
head, could be well imagined; but Connie was 
quick to see that there were tear-stains about her 
eyes, and Drusilla confessed frankly that she had 
been crying. 

“ And it is all on account of Aunt Edith,” she 
said. “ I don’t mind her being horrid to me, be- 
cause you know, Connie darling, she never really 
has cared about me — goodness knows why! But 
she is making Beth perfectly wretched. It sounds 
so beastly, but you will understand me, won’t 
you, darling? when I say I wish you would take 
her away! If you could only take her away, and 
leave Uncle Edmund, and come back yourself, 
that would be heavenly ! ” 

“ I quite understand how you feel,” said Con- 
nie Lingfield. “ And, honestly, Drusilla, I think 
you have every right to be vexed with mother: 
she is too silly. But anyhow, darling, we settled 
last night we should leave early this morning. 
Father is well enough to travel.” 

“ I have such a strange feeling about Aunt 
Edith,” said Drusilla when they had talked a 
little more. “ I don’t want her to meet Jim when 
he comes here to-day. Of course, there isn’t 
anything she could say or do to make mischief 
between us, I know, but still, her manner is so 
curious that somehow I feel uneasy. And oh, 
Connie, now that I know I love him, now that 
his mother and everybody else want us to be 
happy, I do so dread anything coming to spoil 
this happiness ! ” 


102 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“Silly child!” said Connie Lingfield. And 
she said so many cheering and delightful things 
that Drusilla’s smiles and radiant look came back 
again. 

She wrapped herself tightly in her silken gown 
and danced back to her own room, but Connie 
Lingfield sat and mused a while. 

She had thought it altogether wiser not to 
speak to her stepmother about her very evident 
disapproval of Drusilla’s engagement; but de- 
spite the fact that the matter had been practically 
tabooed between them, Miss Lingfield had been 
almost painfully impressed by the conviction that 
her stepmother was harbouring some curious 
grudge against Drusilla. “And yet,” Connie 
said to herself, “ as Drusilla has just said, there 
isn’t anything really she could do or say. Still, 
I am glad we are going away. I expect in a day 
or two mother will recover from this odd fit of 
hers. Anyhow, she won’t be able to annoy Dru- 
silla. In this instance it will be a case of out of 
sight agreeably out of mind!” 


CHAPTER X 


Lord Carlingford had been quite in earnest 
when he had urged that his marriage should take 
place as soon as possible, but he found himself 
compelled to give way to Bertha Heronworth’s 
plea for less haste. 

“You see,” she said to him when the matter 
was discussed, “I have to get used to the idea 
that I must make the rest of my life as best I 
can without Drusilla.” And then with a little 
laugh she had added quickly: “Oh, no! I know 
what you are going to say, but believe me, Jim, 
it won’t be the same thing; it never is the same 
thing! Your marriage will take from me my 
dearest, my most precious possession.” Then, 
before he could say anything, Miss Heronworth 
had put out her hand. “ Please do forgive me,” 
she said. “ I am afraid that sounds horribly self- 
ish.” And Carlingford just clasped her hand in 
both his and said nothing. 

He had, indeed, the purest feeling of sympa- 
thy for Drusilla’s sister, and with the most deli- 
cate tact he forbore to claim too much of his 
betrothed in these days, which were in truth to 
Bertha Heronworth wintry and dark days. 

Drusilla paid her duty- visit to Yorkshire, and, 
as was so natural with her, won the hearts of her 
future husband’s people just simply by the sheer 

103 


104 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


significance of her gracious and fascinating per- 
sonality. 

She wrote to Beth when she was staying away, 
and gave a full account of all her prospective 
new relations. 

“ If there could he another person in the world 
the least bit like you,” she wrote, “ I think Jim’s 
mother is that person. I have just missed meet- 
ing Flora, the second girl, who married Lord 
Torchester, you know, but Daisy, who is the 
eldest of the family, is a dear, though she is really 
quite plain, not a bit like Jim! I adore the two 
younger girls, who are just like young colts, 
and are not out of the school-room yet. At first 
I was inclined to be afraid of Lord Southborne, 
but there is a twinkle in his eye every now and 
then which is most disarming and he wears his 
hat rakishly on one side. It is all very grand, 
Beth ! I can’t begin to count the servants. Every 
now and then I have a little sinking at my heart 
when I realize all the responsibilities that lie in 
front of me ; and in these moments I have a crav- 
ing for my dear old home and for you! I hope 
you are taking care of yourself and not shutting 
yourself up too much in the library? By the 
way, do you know I hear that Mr. Keston’s 
mother is married to a Sir William Draycott? 
Daisy has a picture of her. She looks about 
seventeen, and I am told that she is one of the 
smartest women imaginable. I simply can’t pic- 
ture Mr. Keston with a mother like this! How 
is he getting on? Does he ever talk? Give him 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 105 

my love! No! I suppose I mustn’t say that, but, 
instead, my dearest dear, take an ocean of love 
for your sweetheart self from you devoted Dru- 
silla. ,> 

Bertha Heronworth had been quite prepared 
to let her sister go back to Yorkshire to spend 
Christmas, but Drusilla herself would have none 
of this arrangement. 

“ I am going to spend Christmas here with you, 
and I am going to hang up my stocking as usual, 
and Jim shall come and help decorate the house. 
!He can borrow that fascinating white coat which 
Mr. Keston wears. Beth,” said Drusilla sud- 
denly, “ a wonderful thing happened yesterday. 
Mr. Keston actually laughed. I have been doing 
my best to provoke him to mirth all this long 
time, but without success. It was reserved for 
Bob to triumph where I failed. I suppose, by 
the way, he will be going to spend Christmas with 
his mother? ” 

“No,” said Miss Heronworth; “in fact, I 
gather that he sees very little of his mother. You 
know, she came down here when you were away.” 

“No; did she?” said Drusilla, with animation. 
“And is she really as beautiful as her picture?” 

“ I am afraid I didn’t think her at all beauti- 
ful,” said Bertha Heronworth. “ She was ex- 
quisitely dressed, and at a little distance she 
looked very young, but she is not the type of a 
woman I care about.” After a little pause she 
said: “Mr. Keston was so vexed with her for 
coming.” 


106 the laughter of life 

“ I fancy he has a beastly temper,” said Dru- 
silla. 

She was kneeling on the hearth, poking the fire 
with the end of her riding-crop. In her habit she 
looked very slim, very young, and almost boyish. 

A wave of colour rushed over Bertha Heron- 
worth’s face. Her lips moved as though she 
would have spoken, but she said nothing, and at 
that moment Drusilla got up, banging imagi- 
nary dust from her habit-skirt with the crop she 
held. 

“Have you heard from Aunt Edith lately?” 
she asked. “ Connie wrote to me about a week ago. 
She said then that they were making plans to go 
abroad.” 

“ I have not heard from Aunt Edith since she 
was here,” Bertha Heronworth answered; and 
Drusilla laughed. 

“Well, perhaps that is a mercy, for I am sure 
if she had written she would have only said nasty 
things about Jim and me. Beth, why do you sup- 
pose she has been so nasty about my engage- 
ment?” 

Bertha Heronworth did not answer immedi- 
ately, and then she said: “Perhaps she is vexed 
because you did not tell her what was going on. 
She really can’t find fault with Jim; and it may 
be — ” Bertha Heronworth added a little thought- 
fully — “ that this is at the bottom of the mischief, 
and what really annoys her, is that you will be 
so much greater socially than she is.” 

“That is what Connie said,” Drusilla an- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


107 


swered, “but it seems so ridiculous! Bertha, I 
should like to see Uncle Edmund before he goes 
abroad. I want to thank him for the sweet 
letter he wrote me. Lord Southborne was talk- 
ing about him; he thinks an awful lot of Uncle 
Edmund.” 

“ He is a good man,” said Bertha Heronworth 
in a low voice. “ I think the best man I have ever 
known.” 

She stood looking into the fire, and Drusilla 
stood and looked at her with a pang, the 
younger girl suddenly realized that there was a 
change in her sister. Surely, Beth’s face, always 
delicate and small, had grown even smaller? 
When she was not speaking her expression was 
strangely sad. She looked pathetic, even a little 
desolate, and Drusilla’s heart contracted sharply. 
She put down her hat and riding-crop, and she 
threw her arms round her sister. 

“Oh, Beth darling!” she said, “I don’t want 
you to be unhappy. Why did Jim come? I 
would have gone on living here for ages and ages 
and ages if he hadn’t come, and then we should 
have been together and you would have been 
jolly; and now,” she pressed her lips to Bertha’s 
cheek, “you look wretched.” 

Miss Heronworth turned, and there was re- 
proach and contrition in her expression. 

“ Now, Drusilla,” she said, “ please don’t imag- 
ine things. I am not going to pretend that I 
shall not miss you, and that life will be the same 
when you are gone; but oh! if you could only 


108 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


know how thankful I am that you are happy! 
And if you will only give me a little time I prom- 
ise you I will be jolly.” 

Drusilla crushed her a little closer in her strong 
arms, and then she stood and chatted away in 
her merriest fashion for a few minutes longer. 
Then she said: 

“Well, now, I must go and get out of these 
things.” 

But instead of going straight up to her room 
she made her way to the library. 

By this time Brian Keston had grown accus- 
tomed to her unexpected appearances; in fact, he 
knew quite well the sound of her footsteps on 
the stone passage outside — she had a way of 
opening the door with a little jerk which always 
gave him a kind of thrill. 

The arranging of the books was practically 
finished by this time, but there remained the man- 
uscripts, and the work of making a catalogue 
with all its annotations, which would take a far 
longer period. 

Drusilla walked up to the fireplace, and put 
one of her slender feet, in its long, patent-leather 
boot, on the fender. 

Mr. Keston was engaged in placing some of 
the more precious manuscripts in one of the 
glass-covered desks. 

He paused and looked at Drusilla when she 
first came in, but when he found she had nothing 
apparently to say to him he went on with his 
work. Suddenly she spoke. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


109 


“ Mr. Keston,” she said, “ I am bothered aw- 
fully about Beth! I know I am not worth it, 
but I can’t shut my eyes to the fact that she is 
fretting her heart out about me. Now, isn’t 
she?” 

The young man just glanced at her and then 
said nothing. 

A few weeks back he would have read vanity 
of the most arrogant nature in these straightfor- 
ward words, but he had grown to understand 
Drusilla much better. He had grown (how, 
surely he hardly knew himself) to see the treas- 
ures which lay just below the surface of her 
merry, laughing, everyday mood. 

“ The thing that bothers me,” said Drusilla, 
“is what I can do? Can you suggest any- 
thing?” 

“I don’t think there is anything to do,” said 
Brian Keston. 

And Drusilla lost her temper, and flashed out 
at him. 

“But I came to you on purpose to talk this 
over! Don’t you see I don’t want to be happy if 
Beth is going to be miserable? You’re clever, 
you’ve got brains, you know everything about 
books: just tell me now what I can do to make 
my sister happy.” 

“First of all,” said Mr. Keston bluntly, “I 
don’t know that you are right in supposing that 
Miss Heronworth is unhappy. Of course, she 
will miss you, but, like everybody else, she will 
get used to the change in her life as time passes.” 


110 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Drusilla laughed at him. 

“ That is the most dull, commonplace remark 
I have ever heard. I take back my first assertion. 
I don’t believe you are clever, Mr. Keston.” 

He touched the faded vellum leaves with a 
hand that was not quite steady. 

“I arrived at that conclusion a long time 
ago!” 

Drusilla looked at him without realizing that 
he was there, without hearing distinctly what he 
said. 

“ I have a good mind to take her up to town,” 
she said slowly; “ Beth is in such a groove down 
here. Yes; that is a splendid idea! I’ll rush her 
round, I wont give her time to sit down and 
think about anything. If it were not for the 
servants I would make her stay in town for 
Christmas.” 

“I do think,” said Brian Keston, shutting 
down the lid of the desk carefully, “that Miss 
Heronworth would be all the better for a little 
change.” 

“Why didn’t you say that before?” asked 
Drusilla crossly; but the next moment she was 
smiling. “ Look here,” she said, “ you’ve got to 
help me. I shall bustle Beth away as fast as I 
can. You’ll back me up, won’t you? ” 

She left the fireplace and walked across to the 
desk where he was standing, and stood a moment 
looking down on the old manuscripts — letters, 
they were, for the most part — which he had been 
affixing to the cloth-covered slopes. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


111 


“To think,” said Drusilla, “that those bits of 
writing meant living thoughts, and that hun- 
dreds of years ago people could care and feel 
just as we care and feel! Life is a queer thing. 
I am not sure that I like to look at these old, old 
papers. They make one think too much.” 

She walked to the window, glanced out, came 
back again, and then stood looking at Brian Kes- 
ton rather intently. 

The riding attire gave her the effect of greater 
height. 

Keston by this time had grown into the trick 
of finding some fresh suggestion of charm and 
beauty in every new aspect of this girl. As he 
felt her eyes studying him he looked up, colour- 
ing hotly; and just a little nervously Drusilla 
gave him an explanation: 

“ I was trying to see if you were one little bit 
like your mother. I have not seen her herself, 
you know, but I saw her picture when I was 
staying with Jim’s people. His sisters know her 
well. I don’t see the faintest resemblance.” 

“ There is no resemblance,” said Keston coldly. 

“Perhaps you are like what your father was,” 
said Drusilla. 

She saw him actually wince, as though the 
mere mention of his father’s name hurt him. 

“I wish I were,” he answered, and then he 
turned away. 

Drusilla felt her heart beat a little quickly. 
This devotion to his dead father moved her far 
more than she could appreciate at the moment. 


112 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

“Do you mind speaking to me about your 
father?” she asked in a low voice, after a little 
pause. 

He did not answer immediately; then he said: 

“No.” 

He came back to the desk with a fresh batch 
of papers in his hand, and, opening a fresh sec- 
tion of the glass cover, began carefully to pin 
these papers, and to place a heading and a num- 
ber over each. 

If he had turned and looked at Drusilla in this 
moment he would have seen that tears had gath- 
ered in her eyes, but he was not looking at her, 
and she saw that his usually steady hand was 
trembling. She put out one of hers, and laid it 
on his just for an instant. 

“No,” she said; “you shan’t tell me anything. 
I am an intrusive brute.” 

Keston drew back from her light touch, paused 
nearly a moment, and then said, almost calmly: 

“ On the contrary, I think it is very good of 
you to interest yourself in me. There is very 
little to tell. The first thing that I can remember 
was the sound of my father’s voice, and the joy 
that always came to me when I realized that he 
was in the house. I am not sure that it is a good 
thing for children to be taught to love as I loved 
my father: it makes the — the afterwards so aw- 
ful to bear! If I live to be a hundred I shall 
never forget what I suffered when I went to 
school; and I know now it must have been even 
worse for him. I was all he had.” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


113 


There flashed before Drusilla’s eyes the vision 
of that woman’s photograph she had looked at 
when she had been in Yorkshire, and she under- 
stood. 

“But he sent me to school when I was ever 
such a little chap,” said Brian Keston, “ because 
he knew that I had to be hardened; and when I 
was there I worked with one idea in my mind — to 
make myself possible so that I could help him. 
Even then I realized how unfit he was to grapple 
with the hardships, the sordid struggles, of a 
professional literary life. I wanted to work for 
him; I wanted to earn the money; I wanted to 
give him freedom, space, room, to let his genius 
shape itself in proper form.” 

As he spoke, he was still placing the papers in 
the desk, but Drusilla saw that his hands moved 
mechanically; his mind, his memory, was chained 
to the past. 

“Unfortunately there was always a demand 
for money in my home. My mother had been 
brought up luxuriously. She had not the least 
idea how to economize, just as she never grasped 
the significance of the burden my father carried. 
I am not blaming her,” Keston said, looking for 
an instant at Drusilla: “she was never anything 
more than a child. It was not her fault. I have 
a sort of idea,” he added after a little pause, with 
the faintest and the bitterest of smiles breaking 
the gravity of his lip for a moment, “that you 
know the rough outlines of my story, for your 
aunt, Mrs. Lingfield, claimed to have had ac- 


114 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


quaintance with my father and mother the first 
time I met her here.” 

Drusilla coloured faintly. 

“Yes,” she said; “Aunt Edith did talk about 
you, but she said nothing unkind, for a wonder! 
She only told me that your father had been 
ruined because he had been persuaded by some 
unscrupulous friend to invest everything he had 
in a disastrous speculation. If I were you,” said 
Drusilla, “ I should hate that man.” She spoke 
with fire, and Keston looked at her for an instant, 
with that same fire reflected in his eye. 

“ I have grown tired,” he said, “ of cursing 
George Spanrith! If it had only been misfor- 
tune, if the man had been honest, if he had be- 
lieved in himself ! But he was such a cur, such a 
traitor! And he managed to get off before the 
storm broke. My dear father believed in him up 
to the very, very last, till it was written in such 
big, black letters that even his faith-blinded eyes 
were forced to read and his loyal heart was 
forced to grasp the truth. That was the stuff 
he was made of, the father I adored, the father 
Host!” 

He turned away abruptly, and Drusilla, with- 
out another word, made her way to the door and 
passed out. 

Her lips were trembling and her heart was 
beating unevenly. Though she had laughed and 
chatted about him often enough to her sister, she 
had never really troubled herself about Brian 
Keston one way or the other. Now she felt as 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


115 


though she could never be indifferent to him 
again, as if she would never lose the pathos of the 
story she had just heard. 

The passionate depths of his nature which had 
just been revealed to her gave the real signifi- 
cance to his silent, his almost morose, ordinary 
bearing. 

When she reached her bedroom she sat down 
in an arm-chair and closed her eyes. It was in 
Drusilla’s nature to yearn to give consolation in 
misery, solace in suffering, and it hurt her to 
realize that no one, herself included, could help 
this man. “Because he will never forget/’ she 
said to herself, “ and that is really the beautiful 
part of it. I should hate him if he even tried to 
forget.” 

Her sister tapped at the door and came in 
whilst she was still sitting lost in this sombre view 
of thought. 

“ Why, dearest,” said Bertha Heronworth, “ I 
thought you were coming down again directly! 
This is a telegram from Connie. They are 
starting for Cairo immediately; and I won- 
dered ” 

“ Oh, Beth,” said Drusilla, getting up quickly, 
“ can’t we go to town to-night? I feel as if I must 
see Uncle Edmund before he goes away.” 

“I was just going to suggest this,” said 
Bertha Heronworth; “ but it will be a great rush. 
And you expect Jim here to-morrow, don’t 
you?” 

“ I can send him a wire. He can meet us in 


116 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

town instead. Let us go, Beth! I should love 
it.” 

After a little discussion, Miss Heronworth 
agreed to the suggestion, and then began to move 
towards the door. Half way there, however, she 
turned back. 

“ Is anything the matter, dearest?” she asked 
gently. 

Drusilla flushed slightly, and touched her 
eyes. 

“ I’ve been crying. When I left you, I went 
to the library, and — I am sure I don’t know how 
it happened — but I made Mr. Keston tell me 
about his father, and, as I listened, I couldn’t 
help crying.” 

A curious expression flashed across Bertha 
Heron worth’s face. If that expression had been 
put into words, it would have startled Drusilla. 
Not for an instant did the girl imagine that this 
simple statement of a simple fact had sent a 
pang — almost a jealous one — through Bertha’s 
heart. Indeed, Drusilla’s next words proved how 
very far she was from even imagining how 
precious was all that appertained to Brian Kes- 
ton in her sister’s eyes. 

“ I suppose he has spoken to you — he has told 
you about himself and his father?” 

Bertha did not answer immediately; then she 
said: 

“No; he has never spoken about himself.” 

“Well,” said Drusilla, gradually drifting 
back to her normal self, “ he is really rather like 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


117 


a hero of a romance. I gathered that from what 
Aunt Edith told me. It seems she knew his 
mother and father long ago. and I think she said 
she knew the man who ruined them ; but I didn’t 
listen very attentively, because it seems to me 
that Aunt Edith has known everybody who has 
ever lived. I believe/’ said Drusilla, laughing, 
“ that if you gave her the proper encouragement 
she would tell you that she had had Cain to lunch 
one Sunday, and his brother Abel to dine during 
the week.” 

Bertha Heronworth smiled faintly. 

“Which train shall we go up by this after- 
noon?” she queried. And Drusilla, impulsive as 
ever, voted for an early departure. “ I don’t 
know why, but I feel rather nervous and excited,” 
she said. “ It will do me good to move. If you 
don’t mind, Beth, I’ll come down to lunch in this 
get-up, and perhaps I’ll have a sharp canter 
again after lunch. Mr. Keston upset me,” she 
added a little abruptly. And all at once she shiv- 
ered. “It’s a horrible thing, Beth, to hear a 
good man — and I am convinced Mr. Keston is 
a good man — say in cold blood that he has grown 
weary of cursing another man!” 

Bertha Heronworth winced. 

“Did he say that?” she asked in a very sup- 
pressed tone. 

“Yes,” said Drusilla; “he said he had grown 
weary of cursing George Spanrith, the man 
whose treachery really killed his father.” 

The girl had walked towards the window, and 


118 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

stood there a moment. She went on speaking 
mechanically, and when she turned from the win- 
dow she stared about her in surprise. She had 
imagined she was speaking to her sister, but the 
room was empty. Bertha must have gone away 
very quietly. 


CHAPTER XI 


It was a fact, as Drusilla would put it, “ pat- 
ent to the meanest intelligence,” that Mrs. Ling- 
field was by no means pleased to see her nieces. 
She gave them the coldest greeting, and her man- 
ner was so ill-tempered as to temporarily chill 
even Drusilla’s unfailing light-heartedness. 

Connie Lingfield did her best to make amends 
for her stepmother’s lack of cordiality ; her efforts 
were not successful, however. 

“But what is one,” said Drusilla to herself, 
“among so many? I have often called Aunt 
Edith a host in herself, and to-night I realize how 
true this is.” 

Mrs. Lingfield was very firm in her refusal to 
permit either Bertha or Drusilla to see her hus- 
band. 

“ Edmund must not be disturbed,” she said. 
“ He has been very unwell for more than a week, 
and has a long, tiring journey in front of him, 
and he needs a good night’s rest. If he knows 
that you are here he will insist on seeing you, and 
then he will get excited.” 

At this Drusilla lost her patience a little. 

“ But we have come to town on purpose to see 
Uncle Edmund,” she said, “ and I don’t believe 
we should excite him. Why should we excite 
him? We are not a circus.” 

119 


120 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Bertha had made no protest, but as Mrs. Ling- 
field got up and went out of the room (in lofty 
indignation apparently at Drusilla’s speech) she 
followed her aunt in her halting fashion. 

The moment Drusilla and her cousin were 
alone Miss Lingfield exclaimed: 

“ How ill Bertha looks! ” 

To her surprise, Drusilla seized her by her 
two shoulders and shook her violently; then she 
kissed her. 

“ I had to do it,” she said, and she laughed, but 
there were tears in her eyes. “Yes, she is ill. I 
have tried to pretend to myself that there is noth- 
ing the matter, but it is no use pretending any 
longer. Connie! Beth is fretting horribly, and 
all about me.” 

Miss Lingfield was on the floor, searching for 
her scattered hairpins. 

It was a matter of sharp regret to her now 
that she had spoken so frankly. But in truth she 
had seen something in Bertha Heronworth’s face 
which had startled her when Drusilla and her 
sister had arrived. She tried her best to get out 
of the difficulty. 

“ I don’t think I ought to have said £ ill.’ ” 

“Put it how you like,” said Drusilla, “it 
amounts to the same thing.” 

She sighed sharply, and, standing in front of 
the fire, she stared into it with such a shadow on 
her face as Connie Lingfield had never seen 
there before. All at once, however, her sunny 
smile came. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 121 

“I really wanted to shake Aunt Edith,” she 
said. “Connie, it would give me the greatest 
satisfaction in the world to bring down her hair ! 
You know it is her fault that Beth is fretting so 
much. I make that accusation quite surely. I 
haven’t anything to go upon, but I feel con- 
vinced that in some way or other Aunt Edith is 
annoying Beth. Of course, the idea of losing 
me is upsetting enough, without being bothered 
by other people. Oh, dear! sometimes I feel in- 
clined to break off my engagement.” 

“It takes two to break off an engagement,” 
said Miss Lingfield in her demure way, as she 
rearranged her hair. “We had your Jim here 
this afternoon, Drusilla; he called unexpectedly. 
Mother was awfully nice to him, really and truly 
nice; but I defy her to have been anything else. 
He is such a lamb — I am in love with him myself. 
There is only one explanation, Drusilla, the one 
I gave you in the beginning, for mother’s funny 
little ways. She is jealous.” 

“ But God bless my soul! ” exclaimed Drusilla, 
“she can’t marry Jim! Or does she want him 
to start a harem? ” 

The door opened at that moment, and Bertha 
Heronworth came back. 

“ I think we must go, darling,” she said 
to Drusilla. “I have been trying to persuade 
Aunt Edith to let me see Uncle Edmund, if only 
for a moment, but she refuses absolutely.” 

There was a pathetic — a drawn — look on the 
elder sister’s face. 


122 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

“I wish I could do something,” said Connie 
Lingfield impulsively. 

“ You can kiss him for both of us,” said Dru- 
silla, “ and you can tell him that we are miserable 
because we haven’t seen him. I thought we 
should all have had dinner together to-night, 
and been ever so jolly.” And then Drusilla 
changed her tone and spoke seriously and com- 
posedly: “After all, Beth, perhaps Aunt Edith 
is right. Uncle Edmund has been ill, and he 
has a tremendous journey in front of him; he 
ought to have all the rest he can get. We must 
be reasonable.” 

“He will be awfully disappointed when he 
knows he has missed you,” said Connie Lingfield; 
“far more than you can ever understand, for 
he is very fond of you both. Now, if I wanted 
to be jealous I should have some cause!” 

The sisters drove back to their hotel in the 
four-wheeler, saying nothing; but it surprised 
Drusilla to realize how easy it was to feel both in- 
tensely bitter and furiously angry. 

“ It is past a joke,” she said to herself. 

Indeed, she felt something more than anger 
against her aunt. There was a resentful feeling. 
Ever since she could remember, Drusilla had 
been annoyed by Mrs. Lingfield; but it had 
been reserved for this moment to reveal how 
little pretence of affection there was between 
them. 

As they passed into the hotel Bertha said: 
“You telegraphed to Jim?” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


123 


“Yes. I think he ought to be here about now. 
I didn’t make any arrangement about the even- 
ing, for of course I thought we should dine with 
Aunt Edith.” 

They went up in the lift in silence again, and 
when their rooms were reached Bertha passed 
into her bedroom and closed the door. 

It was impossible now for Drusilla to disguise 
from herself that something was troubling her 
sister to which she had no direct clue. An ex- 
planation for Bertha’s silence and disturbed 
mood might perhaps be found in the supposition 
that when she had followed Mrs. Lingfield out 
of the room there might have been an unpleasant 
discussion. “ Only, Beth never quarrels,” said 
Drusilla to herself. 

She tossed off her furs and sat down on the 
hearthrug. A curious depression was settling 
upon her. She had been eager to get to London. 
A restless nervousness had driven her away from 
Crowder Chase; now she felt she hated London 
and loathed this hotel-room, with its luxurious 
precision and its unhomelike atmosphere. 

She made no effort to follow her sister. For 
the first time in her life she felt that Beth per- 
haps did not want her. 

When there came a knock at the door, and 
Carlingford entered, Drusilla was crying. She 
got up very quickly and tried to hide her tears, 
but he saw them. He caught her by the two 
wrists and drew her into his arms. 

“ Something is wrong,” he said. “ What is it? ” 


124 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Drusilla did not answer at first; she just rested 
in his embrace ; then she said : 

“ Can’t I cry if I want to? ” 

And very decisively he answered: “No;” add- 
ing, “ At least, not unless I know why.” 

“ Tyrant ! ” said Drusilla, but there was no 
spirit in her voice. 

The man stood and pressed his cheek against 
the soft hair. He held her protectingly, as he 
would have held a little child, and in a few mo- 
ments Drusilla gave a sigh. 

“ I’m better now,” she said. 

He loosened his arms, and she stood a little 
apart, and then he kissed her. 

“And now you are going to tell me all there 
is to tell,” he said. 

“ It is such a little ‘ all,’ and there is nothing 
new in it. I daresay you wonder why we rushed 
up to town? It was because Connie sent us a 
telegram saying that she and her father and 
Aunt Edith were leaving for Cairo immediately. 
Beth and I at once decided to come up. We 
wanted so badly to see Uncle Edmund. Who 
knows — perhaps we may never see him again? 
And we went there, and Aunt Edith was per- 
fectly beastly to us, Jim. Do you know, she 
wouldn’t let us see him ! It seems too ridiculous, 
but she won’t. I believe Beth tried ever so hard, 
all to no good. I could have slapped Aunt Edith. 
As it was, I shook poor Connie.” 

Carlingford frowned slightly. He had been 
very directly « conscious of Mrs. Lingfield’s un- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


125 


sympathetic attitude towards Drusilla; and in 
the course of his visit that afternoon he had hit 
on the very strange idea that this aunt of Dru- 
silla’s was cherishing some strange cause of re- 
sentment against the girl. Naturally, nothing 
had been said by Mrs. Lingfield to lead him to 
that conclusion, but he had arrived at it none the 
less surely. 

It was a matter which would have troubled 
him very little indeed had it not been for Drusilla 
herself. But it took on an important shape when 
he saw tear-stains on the face he loved, and real- 
ized that Mrs. Lingfield’s curious animosity had 
thrown a very definite shadow on Drusilla’s hap- 
piness. In fact, she put this into words, even as 
the thought passed through his mind. 

“ I didn’t come to town only to see Uncle Ed- 
mund. I came because I wanted to rush Beth 
away. I am awfully bothered about her, Jim, 
and I thought it would do her no end of good to 
come up to town only for a few hours. Now, of 
course, that is all knocked on the head. Thanks 
to Aunt Edith, we are both miserable.” 

“Don’t talk nonsense!” said Carlingford a 
little sharply. “Look here, Drusilla: don’t 
bother your head any more about your aunt. I 
have a message for you from my sister Flora. 
She is in town, as it happens ; and when she heard 
that you were coming up, nothing would satisfy 
her but that she must see you to-night. She 
wants us to dine with her.” 

“ I can’t eat any dinner,” said Drusilla mourn- 


126 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


fully. “ I really have a fit of the blues. If you 
know of a nice convenient churchyard I will go 
and spend a few hours in it.” 

“ It isn’t a big party,” said Lord Carlingford, 
“ but Flora told me that she had some odds and 
ends of people coming in after dinner, and I be- 
lieve she has some sort of entertainment on — 
thought-reading or conjuring, or something of 
that sort.” 

Drusilla clapped her hands. 

“ Oh, Jim! how lovely! And shall I know all 
you are thinking about? ” 

“You know that already,” the man said as he 
took her in his arms again. 

“ I am not so sure,” said Drusilla. “ I remem- 
ber ” But then with half a sigh and half a 

laugh she broke off. 

“ It’s so nice,” she said, “ to realize that some 
one cares as you do. You will never change, will 
you, Jim? ” 

He only smiled down at her. 

“ People do change.” 

“Well, that is a subject you should know 
something about,” said Carlingford, “for you 
are the most' chameleon-like person I have ever 
known. Honestly I am never sure of you.” 

“Jim!” said Drusilla. 

“Fact.” 

She tried to shake him, but he stood the assault 
calmly, and, taking her face in his two hands, 
he kissed it again and again. 

“ Anyhow, I am going to make as sure of you 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


127 


as I can,” he said, “and sooner than we arranged. 
It is practically settled that I shall go out with 
the Duke on his tour of inspection to the Colon- 
ies as one of his staff, and I am not going with- 
out you.” 

“ Sometimes,” said Drusilla, half in earnest, 
“ I am a little afraid of you, Jim. I do wish you 
had been a bank-clerk or somebody poor and of 
no account; then I should have felt that you 

really did belong to me, but ” She broke off. 

“ I had better go and tell Beth about to-night. I 
have a sort of idea that she will want to back out 
of going; but we must be firm.” 

“Oh, she must come!” said Carlingford. 

Miss Heronworth, however, fell in with the 
arrangement. 

“I would rather have had dinner here,” she 
said; “but we must not refuse Lady Torchester’s 
first invitation.” A little later she said to her 
sister: “I am going to send Catherine with a 
note for Uncle Edmund. I shall put it under 
cover to Connie; otherwise, perhaps Aunt Edith 
would not give it to him.” 

“ She is a cat! ” said Drusilla hotly. “ Let us 
try and forget her. At least, if she is horrid to 
us, she is good to Uncle Edmund. Now I want 
to look my best. Beth, do come and tell me what 
I ought to wear.” 

Lord Carlingford had gone away, promising 
to call back for them in his sister’s carriage ; and 
they spent quite a pleasant ten minutes passing 
Drusilla’s wardrobe in critical inspection. 


128 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“ Wear white,” was Miss Heronworth’s deci- 
sion, “ and do your hair the way I like.” 

The elder sister was dressed before Drusilla, 
and was waiting in the sitting-room when Car- 
lingford ran up. 

“ I have something to say to you, Jim,” Miss 
Heron worth said a little hurriedly — in fact, a 
little nervously. “ I want to tell you that I have 
changed my mind; that for many reasons I don’t 
want you to have a long engagement.” 

Carlingford looked at her for a moment, and 
then he kissed her. 

“Thank you, dear,” he said. “As a matter 
of fact, I was going to have five minutes’ chat 
with you to-night, if possible. Something has 
cropped up which makes it imperative that we 
should marry much sooner than we arranged.” 

Then he told her of the impending and almost 
certain appointment, and Bertha drew a deep 
breath as she listened. 

“We will fix the wedding-day whenever you 
want it to be, Jim,” she said; and then the sub- 
ject was dismissed as the door opened and Dru- 
silla came in. 


CHAPTER XII 


When Lady Torchester had first heard of 
her brother’s engagement she had been inclined 
to take the matter rather badly; in fact, she 
planned more than one indignant letter protest- 
ing against what she regarded as Carlingford’s 
madness. 

Lady Torchester had devoted a good deal of 
thought to the question of her brother’s mar- 
riage. She was very fond of him; proud of his 
good looks, of his splendid qualities as a soldier, 
and naturally of his position, both present and 
in the future. There were very few women, 
in Lady Torchester’s opinion, who were deserv- 
ing of the honour of being her brother’s wife; 
and so to be suddenly informed that he had 
chosen for himself, and chosen a girl about 
whom she knew absolutely nothing, was really 
in its way a blow. Even her parents’ warm and 
sympathetic appreciation of Drusilla left Lady 
Torchester unmoved. Of course, she was very 
glad that Jim was going to marry money, for 
money was wanted so badly ; but money was not 
everything. However, finding that the matter 
was settled, and that her brother had no intention 
of changing his views to please her, she tried to 
make the best of the matter, and she resolved to 

129 


130 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


meet Drusilla as pleasantly as possible. And 
the coming of Drusilla was an agreeable disap- 
pointment. Lady Torchester had been prepared 
to see a pretty girl, but Drusilla’s loveliness took 
her breath away. Before the dinner was over 
she had to confess to herself she quite under- 
stood her brother’s infatuation. Both the Misses 
Heronworth, in fact, produced an agreeable im- 
pression on her. 

Although she was only in town for a week of 
Christmas shopping, Lady Torchester’s big 
house was open; and what she had called a little 
party swelled, before the evening was over, into 
a large crowd. 

Though she was hardly aware of it, Drusilla 
was really the centre of interest to nearly every- 
one present. She was not shy, but her manner 
was a little subdued as, one after another, peo- 
ple were brought up to her and introduced. 
After a while she found herself sitting beside a 
small woman wearing a white satin gown, a coro- 
net of diamonds on her elaborately dressed hair, 
and any amount of jewels around her throat and 
neck. 

Lady Draycott introduced herself. 

“ I am so glad to see you, Miss Heronworth,” 
she said. “ I missed you when I went down to 
Crowder Chase the other day to see my boy.” 

Drusilla said something, she hardly knew 
what. She was looking at Brian Keston’s 
mother, at the little pinched and painted parody 
of a face, at all the jewels which could not hide 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 131 

the ravages pf advancing age; and her heart 
gave a thud as memory swept her back to the 
library at home, and she remembered how Kes- 
ton had looked as he had spoken about his father. 
Even now the tone of his voice had power 
to hurt her. There came to Drusilla a distinct 
repugnance for this little creature sitting beside 
her. 

Lady Draycott was happily quite unconscious 
of this. She merely thought Drusilla shy and 
rather stupid, and in consequence she chatted 
away with extra briskness. 

“And how is my poor, dear quixotic Brian V* 
she inquired after a little. “I have not heard 
from him just lately.” 

“I think Mr. Keston is quite well. He is 
working all the time. My sister does not know 
really what she would have done without him. 
He has been most invaluable.” 

Lady Draycott laughed. 

“ So kind of you, dear Miss Heronworth, to 
put it like that,” she said; “but, of course, I 
can’t pretend to be pleased with Brian. He has 
offended all his father’s people; and Sir William 
has grown tired of protesting against his pe- 
culiar views. Brian has put himself out of 
touch with everything which really belongs to 
him.” 

“ Mr. Keston is an enthusiast,” said Drusilla, 
trying not to speak coldly. “I don’t suppose 
he would ever be happy unless he were work- 
ing.” 


132 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“ But that is such a bourgeois idea,” said Lady 
Draycott, with her small, shrill laugh. “ Perhaps 
I am out of the fashion, but my creed is that 
people like ourselves have great duties and obli- 
gations to themselves. Work very often means 
a great degree of selfishness. Now, if Brian 
had let me shape his life, he would not be where 
he is now. But,” said Lady Draycott hurriedly, 
“I am speaking to you most confidentially. I 
never discuss Brian; indeed, very few people 
know that I have a grown-up son. I expect very 
few would believe it if they were to see Brian. I 
don’t look very much like his mother, do I ? ” 
“No,” said Drusilla; “you certainly do not.” 
And just then Carlingford came across the 
room, and she gave almost an audible sigh of 
relief. 

“Getting tired?” the young man asked as 
Lady Draycott took herself and her long white 
train and her gleaming jewels away. 

“Not tired,” Drusilla said; then she added 
impulsively: “What an odious little woman!” 

“Who — Rosalie Draycott? Oh! she is very 
harmless, a mass of vanity, but not a bad sort” 
“Well, I think her odious,” said Drusilla with 
conviction. “ I am sure if I were to see her very 
often I should be rude to her. I hate shams! ” 
Carlingford looked at the girl a little curi- 
ously. He had never heard her speak in this 
way before, and he felt he hardly understood 
her mood. He had no particular liking for Lady 
Draycott, but at the same time he thought Dru- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 133 

silla rather hard on a woman whose only fault 
appeared to be a silly form of vanity. 

“ Flora is complaining she has not had a 
chance to speak to you. She wants you to lunch 
with her alone to-morrow. I’ll entice Beth to 
come out with me: we have lots of little things 
to talk over and arrange. Will you lunch with 
Flora? ” 

“If you will promise to he very good to 
Beth,” said Drusilla, “ I will do everything you 
want.” 

He took her hand for an instant unseen, and 
gripped it in a way that brought the colour flush- 
ing into her cheeks and made her heart beat. 

“Dearest and sweetest!” he said. “And now 
come along and say good-bye. Beth looks 
awfully tired, and I am going to take you back 
to the hotel.” 

Lady Torchester’s motor-car was waiting for 
them, and made short work of the homeward 
journey. 

Lord Carlingford said “Good-bye” to them 
at the door of the lift. 

“ I will be round first thing in the morning,” 
he said, “and we will go for a walk.” 

The sisters parted with a tender kiss. 

“Promise me that you are going to sleep,” 
Drusilla said. And when Bertha answered a 
little hurriedly: “Why should I not sleep?” 
the other girl prevaricated. 

“Oh, I know you hate moving about. You 
will miss your own room and your own bed, and 


134? THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

the quietness and everything. I don’t mind a 
noise. Beth, I am waking up!” 

“Just when you ought to be going to sleep,” 
said Bertha with her faint smile. 

“ I mean,” said Drusilla, as she slipped out of 
her wrap, “I am waking up in spirit. I am 
beginning to feel that life is a complex thing; 
that there is far, far more in even commonplace, 
everyday things than I have ever imagined. 
No,” the girl said rather abruptly, “I know 
what you are going to say! You are going to 
tell me my life need be nothing but a bed of 
roses, but I don’t mean to have it like that, Beth! 
Even roses have their thorns, you know.” Then, 
in her familiar way of twisting from a subject, 
she said : “ What do you think of my future sis- 
ter? She looks a little like Jim sometimes. If 
she were tall she would be handsome. They all 
think a great deal of Flora. She told me to-night 
she and Jim were the two who had always been 
together from the schoolroom days. I wonder 
if she likes me?” 

“Why should you doubt?” asked Bertha 
quickly. 

“I don’t doubt. I only wonder. Now you 
really must get to bed. Good-night, dear, dear 
Beth! Kiss me, and dream sweetly.” 

In her own room Drusilla dismissed the maid 
Catherine, with strict injunctions to look care- 
fully after her mistress. 

“ I have a sort of idea that Miss Bertha will 
not sleep well. I know she is upset, Catherine. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 135 

She wanted so much to see Mr. Lingfield. You 
managed to get her letter delivered?” 

u I gave it to Miss Connie herself, miss. She 
sent you all sorts of messages.” 

Huddled up in her pink silk dressing-gown 
Drusilla planted herself in a chair immediately 
in front of the fire. For some reason or other, 
bed seemed right out of the question. 

“ I suppose this is inevitable,” she said to her- 
self with a little restless catch. “ If Jim hadn’t 
come, everything would have gone on just the 
same. Sometimes I feel as if the old part of me 
had had much the best time; and yet — and yet,” 
she said to herself, slipping her foot down and 
sitting bolt upright, “if I even try and picture 
to myself what life would be without Jim, I feel 
frightened.” 

She sat and stared up at the ledge above the 
fireplace. 

Catherine had placed the few pet photographs 
which Drusilla always carried about with her on 
this ledge. There was a miniature of Bertha, a 
portrait of her father and mother and two of 
Carlingford. 

“By every right,” said Drusilla to herself as 
she looked at her lover’s pictured face, “I ought 
to care more for Bertha than for you, but you 
seem to have taken everything. Nothing com- 
pares with what you are ! ” Then Drusilla said 
to herself, brushing back her hair from her 
brow: “ I wish it wasn’t like this! I wish I did 
not care so much! It is wrong to care so much. 


136 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

That is what Kitty Deravan said about her chil- 
dren and Brian Keston about his father. I didn’t 
want Jim, and when he came I tried to put 
him out of my life; but now! Now! . . . 
Now! . . ” 

She got up and took the nearest photograph 
from the ledge and she stood with it pressed, not 
to her lips, but to her heart; and as she stood 
there, with her eyes closed, there came to her that 
same feeling which she had expressed to her sis- 
ter when she had told Beth of her betrothal, the 
feeling that what she had was too much, that she 
had more than her share; and with this feeling 
there mingled also a yearning to express her 
gratitude in some noble way, to lift herself out 
of the frothy happiness of her childhood and 
shape herself anew, finding fresh significance 
even in the commonplace things of life and duty 
everywhere ! 


CHAPTER XIII 


Carlingford arrived so early the next morning 
at the hotel that he breakfasted with Drusilla 
and her sister. Afterwards, he carried off the 
younger girl for a brisk walk in the Park, de- 
spite the fact that Drusilla protested that she 
had done none of her Christmas shopping. 

“Oh, Beth will do that for you. Won’t you, 
Beth? ” 

So Drusilla handed a long list to her sister. 
And, just as she was going away, she said: 

“I haven’t put down Mr. Keston’s name on 
that list, but you might get something for him, 
Beth. I’ll tell you what: I might as well give 
him my photograph, in a nice leather frame.” 

But to this Lord Carlingford objected. 

“ Certainly not,” he said. “ Give him the 
frame, if you like, but not the photograph.” 

He spoke quite decidedly; but Drusilla only 
laughed. 

“All important personages give their photo- 
graphs,” she said; “and as the future Lady 
Carlingf ord ” 

“ Come along! ” said Lord Carlingford. And 
he took her away. 

The sun was shining, but the wind was very 
bleak; and they had to walk quickly to get 
warm. 


137 


138 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“ This braces me up,” said Drusilla. “ Did you 
notice how sleepy I was when you came this 
morning? Well, that was because I was awake 
all night.” 

“Awake!” said Carlingford quickly. “What 
kept you awake?” 

And she answered him promptly. 

“You — yes, you!” she said, as they turned 
into the Park gates. “You are an awful anxiety 
to me, Jim. All sorts of things force me to see 
that we have made a mistake in being in such a 
hurry; but ” 

She paused. 

“ I should like to know what that 4 but 9 
means,” Carlingford said good-humouredly. 
And she blushed. 

Her next remark was a question. 

“ How many of those women who were there 
last night have you been in love with? ” 

“Last night? What! at Flora’s? Oh, prob- 
ably all of them. A boy, as a rule, falls in love 
every other day.” 

“Well, I’m jealous, horribly jealous, Jim. I 
want to be your first love.” 

“ So you are, my dearest,” he answered her 
gently. “ Because,” he added, “ you are veritably 
the first woman I have met in whom I see my 
wife.” 

“Just for curiosity,” said Drusilla, 44 tell me 
what you want your wife to be.” 

He did not answer her immediately. 

44 1 want a woman whom I can love not for a 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


139 


week or a month only, but for always. I want 
a woman I can trust. I want a woman who tells 
the truth, and who is loyal. I want a woman 
who will put her hand in mine, and who will go 
with me wherever I am called. I want a woman 
who will be a mother — a real mother. I want a 
woman who will grow old with me! And all 
these things I know I shall find in you, Dru- 
silla.” 

“Oh, Jim!” she said brokenly, and she turned 
her face from him, because the tears were run- 
ning down her cheeks. 

It seemed to her that he had voiced all those 
nameless longings which had possessed her the 
night before, and yet he saddened her. 

“Suppose I fail in all this? Suppose, with 
the very best intentions in the world, I fail?” 

They had left the deserted Row, and were out 
in the open part of the Park now. 

He took her hand from the muff and drew it 
through his arm. 

“You won’t fail,” he said briskly. “You 
have the stuff in you, Drusilla, that makes the 
ideal woman. Look at the people from whom 
you came — your father and your grandfather 
and your great-grandfather. With such records, 
such splendid human documents, such honest, 
straightforward, clean lives behind you, it would 
be strange if you should fail. Beth has kept 
you a child all these years, though she has taken 
on her own shoulders burdens and responsibilities 
which many a man carries; and I want to keep 


140 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


you a child, too, in one respect, but for all other 
reasons I want you to grow into the woman I 
know you will be. You said last night you wished 
I had been just a simple working man; well, I 
am going to work. There are just as many pos- 
sibilities for people like ourselves to work and 
to rise as for those who start with so much less 
than we have. My firm opinion is that you could 
be as earnest a worker as any woman in the 
world. Now let us come to the things of the 
moment. Whilst you are lunching with Flora 
I am going to fix up things with Beth. I want 
you to agree to our marriage in January. Of 
course, I shan’t urge this, but personally I should 
have liked a quiet wedding.” 

“ I should like an elopement,” said Drusilla. 

He stopped and swung her round till he 
looked into her face, that had at this moment 
a sweeter, lovelier look, because of the tear-stains 
and the quivering of her lips. 

“No? Really?” 

She broke into her radiant smile. 

“Yes, really — honestly and truly. It would 
save such a lot of bother. But I suppose people 
would be horrified.” 

“I don’t know that we need trouble about 
other people,” said Carlingford. “However, 
don’t say anything to Flora to-day. Of course, 
she would like a very grand affair, but I fancy 
we shall get our way with Beth.” 

“ Beth has always done what I wanted,” said 
Drusilla. “Please be awfully nice to her to- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


141 


day; she is growing so fond of you — you have 
a way of making people fond of you,” said Dru- 
silla. 

He laughed, and then he said half seriously: 

“ Tell me how much you love me.” 

She opened her arms very widely. 

“ That much!” 

And after that they talked happy nonsense, 
and stayed out in the bleak wind, feeling none of 
its bleakness, conscious of neither time nor other 
tiresome things, till a faraway clock struck an 
hour and the wind brought the sound to them. 

“And, by Jove, we must go!” said Carling- 
ford. And they almost ran out of the Park. 

He took Drusilla into his sister’s house, and 
when they were alone in the shadows in the bend 
of the staircase he kissed her. 

“I’ll come and fetch you,” he said. “Don’t 
be afraid of Flora. She has quite lost her heart 
to you, and she is really a good little sort in her 
way.” 

He left her, and then he went back to her 
again, and stole another kiss. 

“You are quite happy?” he asked her. 

“Quite! Oh, so happy, Jim!” 

Their hands clung together as they parted, 
the hearts of both were thrilling. 

Drusilla was rather glad that she had to wait 
a little while for Lady Torchester. She was 
grateful for a few moments’ quietness. In the 
last hour she had looked on a new phase of her 
lover’s nature. Yet, as she paused to recall all 


142 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

he had said, she realized that she was not in the 
least surprised to find that a vein of serious im- 
port lay like a foundation beneath the charm, 
the light-heartedness, and the passion of the 
man. Nevertheless, there was here matter which 
called for thought. 

Carlingford’s words to her out in the Park, 
those simple yet heartfelt words of faith in her, 
were unutterably sweet, but they added another 
to the many responsibilities which were closing 
in about Drusilla, and Drusilla was so new to 
responsibility. It seemed to her now that she 
had never thought independently, much less 
moved or acted of her own free will. 

Life had been ordained for her by her sister; 
and she had just rippled on in a sunny, irrespon- 
sible way, conscious of neither shadows nor sor- 
rows, conscious of nothing deep or earnest, con- 
tent to let Bertha guide her and guard her as 
though, indeed, she had been nothing more than 
a little child. Even now, though Beth had re- 
ceded a little into the background, Drusilla could 
hardly picture an intimate home-life without 
her. 

In her calm, unpretentious way Bertha Her- 
onworth was so strong, so wise. 

“I can’t imagine Beth making a mistake,” 
Drusilla said to herself now, as she sat waiting 
for her future sister-in-law to join her; “whilst 
I — I shall make mistakes by the thousand! It is 
very lovely of Jim to believe I am everything he 
wants me to be; but, oh, I wish he didn’t believe 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


143 


it — at least, not all! I shall have to get Beth to 
ask him not to put me on a pedestal; for, if he 
does, I know one fine day something will happen. 
I shall give a lurch, and then there will be an 
awful fall, and I shall smash up all my happi- 
ness ! ” 

Carlingford insisted on taking Beth out to 
luncheon. 

“ I know of an awfully quiet little place,” he 
said, “ where we can eat what Drusilla would call 
mysterious food, and we can talk to our hearts’ 
content.” 

As they started off Miss Heronworth apolo- 
gized for being rather dull. 

“ London never suits me. Unless you want us 
to stay longer, I think we will go back home at 
once.” 

“ Go back, certainly,” the young man an- 
swered. 

He was so affectionate, so tender with Beth; 
and, in truth, he felt more closely drawn to her. 
It seemed to him that there was something work- 
ing in her heart over and above her natural re- 
luctance to separate from her sister. Though 
the idea might seem ridiculous, it certainly dawned 
on Carlingford’s mind, as he glanced now and 
then at Beth’s small, wistful face, that she was 
worried. 

“ You are not fretting, are you? ” he asked her 
once, going to the point in a frank way. 

She said; “Yes and no; but I am no longer 


144 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


selfish. I want, as I told you last night, to take 
back all my restrictions.” 

Indeed, she discussed the immediate future 
quite eagerly, and seemed enchanted with the 
idea of the young married people going abroad. 
Once, however, she looked at Carlingford a little 
anxiously. 

“ You will be very patient with Drusilla, won’t 
you?” she said. “You will try and remember 
that she has been very, very much cherished. I 
am not sure, Jim, that she is altogether fit as 
yet for big social duties. She may make mis- 
takes.” 

“I am not afraid,” said Carlingford, with a 
happy smile of confidence. “ And, besides, even 
if she did blunder now and then, she is only a 
girl. I am going to take the greatest care of her, 
Beth. I am going to try and make her find in 
me everything that you have been to her; and I 
wish from the bottom of my heart — I wish that 
I could just let you know how grateful I am to 
you for your faith in me. Oddly enough,” he 
added the next moment, “Drusilla was saying 
just what you have been saying this morning; 
but I told her it wasn’t possible that she could 
ever fail; that, coming from such people as she 
does, she can’t help being what she is — the sweet- 
est, the best, the purest in heart and mind.” 

Bertha Heronworth sat looking down at the 
coarse, white tablecloth. She saw everything so 
clearly, and yet she was separated from every- 
thing about her. Once again her spirit, the spirit 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


145 


inherited from those dead people whom Carling- 
ford had just spoken about with so much rever- 
ence and enthusiasm, clamoured to be heard. It 
was a moment rare with possibility, a moment 
that perhaps might never come again. Edmund 
Lingfield had counselled silence. His argument 
had been based on practical knowledge of life; 
yet, though Beth had taken his counsel, her heart 
had not been satisfied. She knew now that it 
would never be satisfied. Yet, even as she 
paused, the moment passed, and the chance was 
gone. 

Carlingford was talking eagerly of his plans, 
of that very quiet marriage ceremony, which 
would be very pleasant to both Drusilla and him- 
self, and after that he began talking about Beth 
herself. 

“I want you to go to Yorkshire after we are 
married. My mother is eager for you to go to 
her. I wish you would promise me this,” he 
said. “You ought to be great friends, you two; 
and this arrangement would make the child so 
happy.” 

“I can’t make any definite promises,” Beth 
answered. “ I think I shall be happier alone just 
at first, but I shall go to your mother when you 
and Drusilla are away.” Then she mustered up 
courage to speak to him about money. “Mr. 
Lethbridge will be writing you in a day or two,” 
she said. “ He will act as a trustee for Drusilla. 
She knows nothing about money.” Then she 
added, as she rose from the table and let Carling- 


146 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


ford put her furs about her: “ I shall settle half 
I have on Drusilla.” 

The young man said nothing. He took her 
back to the hotel, vaguely wishing that he could 
devise some means of dispelling the sadness 
which undoubtedly had possession of her. It 
was not until he was alone that he recalled what 
she had said about the settlements. It struck him 
then as strange that it should be necessary for 
Bertha Heronworth to make settlements at all. 
He had not given the matter any real thought, 
but still he had supposed, in a vague way, that 
Drusilla was rich — that she probably had her 
own share in the fortune which the late George 
Heronworth had left. Yet Bertha Heronworth’s 
words had been distinctly to the effect that she 
had given her sister half of what she possessed. 

“I suppose,” said Carlingford to himself, 
“ that as she was the elder daughter, she took the 
lot.” 

And after that he thought no more of the 
matter, but, after dawdling about a little while 
at his club, went to fetch Drusilla. 

He found his sister alone, and just a little 
aggrieved. 

“We were having such a delightful time, and 
getting on so well,” said Lady Torchester, 
“ when everything was spoilt. Miss Heronworth 
sent a message to say that she wanted Drusilla 
at once, as she had received very bad news of an 
uncle — Uncle Edmund, I believe, Drusilla called 
him.” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 147 

“ Oh, I must go back and see what has hap- 
pened ! ” said Carlingf ord. And he hurried away 
again without loss of time. 

When he reached the hotel, however, he was 
kept waiting a little while in the sitting-room; 
and when Drusilla came to him her eyes were 
tear-stained. 

“ Oh, Jim,” she said, “Uncle Edmund is dead; 
and I simply don’t know what to do for Beth! 
She is broken-hearted. He was so much to her; 
in some ways, more even than I am. And the 
thing that hurts,” said Drusilla brokenly, “is 
that she wanted so much to see him. Wasn’t it 
cruel of Aunt Edith not to let us see him last 
night?” 

It was very comforting to be held in his 
strong arms, and they stood for a moment or 
two without speaking, and then Carlingf ord 
said: 

“ What do you want to do? Must you stay in 
town?” 

“I want to take Beth back home at once,” 
said Drusilla. “ There is really nothing that we 
can do, and now I don’t want to meet Aunt 
Edith. I can’t help feeling that somehow it was 
all to spite me that she would not let Beth see 
Uncle Edmund last night. She is so odd with 
me. If we could do anything for poor Connie I 
would stay, but here again I am sure Aunt Edith 
will interfere; so we had better go home, and 
you’ll come soon, won’t you?” 

“I will follow you to-morrow or next day,” 


148 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


said Carlingford, “unless you would like me to 
go down with you?” 

But Drusilla shook her head at this. She 
seemed to think that her sister would prefer to 
travel alone. 

“ Catherine and I can manage quite well,” she 
said, “and I shall feel happier about Beth when 
we are home again.” 

So half an hour later Carlingford took his 
leave, and before evening the Misses Heron- 
worth had left London for the country. 


CHAPTER XIV 


Back at Crowder Chase life seemed just the 
same, and yet there was a great difference. 

The death of Edmund Lingfield had cast a 
definite blight on both the sisters. In fact, 
Bertha Heronworth, who never yet had played 
the part of invalid, allowed herself to be kept a 
prisoner in her room; and though Drusilla 
fussed about her and did everything her tender 
thought could suggest to lift her sister’s spirit, 
she felt not only that she failed absolutely, but 
she felt — and this in no indefinite way — at times 
that Beth was really better when she was left 
entirely alone. 

Drusilla had sent Carlingford a telegram an- 
nouncing their safe arrival, and in it she had 
added ; 

“Don’t come down to-morrow. I will write 
to you.” 

And she did write. Her letters to him were 
very straightforward aff airs. Read by a 
stranger, they might have seemed matter-of- 
fact, indifferent sort of epistles, but the man to 
whom they were written had grasped by this 
time the character of the girl who wrote, and to 
him they lacked nothing. 

He obeyed her, because he knew she was 
thinking solely and simply of Bertha; and he felt 

149 


150 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


it as a duty that he should in no way influence 
Drusilla in these the last few weeks that she and 
her sister were to be together. 

In one of her letters Drusilla had written: 

“I intend, if I possibly can, to prevent Beth 
going to the funeral. Up to the present, we have 
had neither sign nor word from Aunt Edith. It 
is Connie’s maid who has sent me news. Connie, 
poor child, is prostrated with grief ; and, indeed, 
I don’t wonder — she and her father were so 
much to one another, and he was such a dear! I 
want Connie to come to us, but I don’t know now 
what will happen.” 

To walk to the village and post these letters 
was Drusilla’s one little gleam of pleasure. She 
realized in these days a new fact about herself, 
which was that it was not easy for her to give 
expression to any great emotion. The proud 
kind of shyness which controlled her pen when 
she was writing to Carlingford had its root in the 
very depths of her nature, a restraint which was 
so utterly at variance with that bubbling, happy- 
go-lucky manner which had characterized her 
ever since she had been a child. To have to real- 
ize that she was capable of meeting, compre- 
hending, and bearing responsibility was a new 
development. Inevitably there were moments 
when Drusilla regretted the transition from her 
former careless, sunny indifference to her pres- 
ent mental condition, which she dimly felt was 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


151 


only the birth of what she was destined to be; 
and, of course, she did not part with her old 
tricks all at once. When she realized little by 
little that Beth perf erred to be alone she had 
recourse to the library. 

“You have to put up with me, whether you 
like it or not,” she said to Brian Keston. “ If I 
stay alone I shall do something desperate ! ” 

For a long while she sat watching him as he 
worked, and then his industry got on her nerves. 

“ Can’t you talk?” she asked once desperately. 
“You must be just a walking encyclopaedia of 
knowledge. Why not share this knowledge? 
Suppose you instruct me? I know now I have 
everything to learn. I never went to school ; and 
my dear old Charlotte Waters, who was my gov- 
erness for I don’t know how many years, used to 
wring her hands in despair over me. As it is,” 
Drusilla said, “I never can remember if there 
are two ‘ p’s ’ in ‘ disappointment.’ Mr. Keston, 
do, please , take my education in hand.” 

“ The first thing you ought to learn,” said 
Brian Keston in his quiet way, “is patience.” 

And this brought Drusilla out of her chair. 

“ Patience ! ” she said. “ My goodness ! What 
have I to be patient for?” she asked in the same 
breath. 

“Patience,” said Keston in a low voice, “is 
really one form of unselfishness.” 

Drusilla walked the length of the room, look- 
ing at the big cases in which all the books were 
ranged in proper order. 


1 52 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“That means,” she said, turning round sud- 
denly and looking at him whilst she flushed, 
“ that you must have discovered that I am selfish, 
Mr. Keston.” 

He looked at her just a moment, and said: 

“You are human.” 

“And so, of course, I am crammed full of 
faults. Thank you,” said Drusilla. Then she 
smiled at him “But you are so right! And you 
know me better than most people, better even 
than Lord Carlingford, because he has made up 
his mind that I am a paragon of perfection — a 
woman absolutely incapable of doing the ordi- 
nary, foolish things that most women do; and he 
bases this idea to a great extent on the fact that 
my dead and gone relations were such very esti- 
mable people. Do you believe in that theory? ” 

Keston continued writing for a few minutes, 
then said : 

“No. Undoubtedly in some cases heredity 
stands for a good deal, but the majority of peo- 
ple are, in my opinion, what circumstances or 
education have made them.” 

“ I shall tell Jim what you say,” said Drusilla. 

Just for an instant Keston’s lips curled; and 
then he flushed. 

“ Lord Carlingford will be very much obliged 
to you, I am sure,” he said. 

“I don’t know if he will be,” Drusilla an- 
swered promptly, “but I know I am. You have 
taken a load off my mind. Since I came back 
here, I have been trying to think how I could do 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 153 

big and noble deeds, to live up to the reputation 
of my ancestors. It has been fearfully depress- 
ing; and you crushed me terribly just now, be- 
cause, when I asked you to teach me how to 
spell ‘ disappointment/ you declared I was 
selfish/’ 

She waited for him to say something; but he 
made no reply, only plunged once again into the 
huge book of reference which stood on the table, 
and against which was the foolscap on which he 
was making notes. Suddenly a strange little 
sound broke the silence of the room. Putting 
down his pen again, and looking round, he saw 
that Drusilla was crying. He made one move- 
ment towards her, and then he paused; and she, 
drying her eyes hastily, looked up at him. 

“Isn’t it silly to cry?” she said. “But — I 
don’t know how to express it exactly — but Uncle 
Edmund’s death has made me afraid . I feel as 
if everything that I knew so well — all the little, 
ordinary things of my everyday life, I mean — 
have gone ! Is this what death means ? So many, 
many times I have heard of people dying; I have 
seen those left behind wearing black, and look- 
ing sad ; and I have seen the open graves in the 
churchyard, but I never, never grasped what it 
all really meant! Mr. Keston, I don’t want to 
lose everything all at once! Is that being self- 
ish?” 

“No!” he answered. “It is learning the 
truth.” 

She smiled through her tears. 


1541 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“So after all you are educating me!” She 
dabbed her eyes anxiously, and then looked at 
him. “Do I look as if I had been crying? I 
don’t want Beth to ask questions, because I don’t 
know how to answer them, unless I say to her I 
am weeping because Mr. Keston says I am a 
mass of selfishness.” 

“That,” he answered, smiling with difficulty, 
“ is not the truth.” 

Drusilla rolled her handkerchief into a ball, 
and stuck it into her belt. Her frivolous mood, 
though it was not quite the real thing, came back 
to her fortunately at this moment. 

“You really are a useful person to have in 
the house,” she said. “ I shall treat you as a kind 
of clock, and, when I feel doubtful, I shall come 
and see whether I am doing right or wrong.” 

He was looking at her with a curious expres- 
sion in his eyes. 

“ I am not sure if I am very useful,” he an- 
swered slowly, “but I am quite sure that I will 
gladly be of use to you if ever you have need of 
me.” 

“ Now, that is very nice of you,” said Drusilla; 
“ and you mustn’t blame me if I take you at your 
word. Well, I think I will go and see how Beth 
is. Good-bye, Mr. Keston. Don’t think you’ve 
got rid of me, because I dare say I shall come 
back again in five minutes. I’ve got the fidgets. 
I can’t rest anywhere.” 

He rose, of course, to open the door, and she 
went out, not with any haste, however — daw- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


155 


dling, in fact, — and pausing to say some words 
of endearment to Bob, who had apparently been 
sitting on the mat outside. 

When she was gone, the man inside shut the 
door, and stood against it for a fraction of an 
instant; then with a shiver he went back to his 
work. But the monotony and the stillness 
seemed, for once, beyond him; and, flinging 
aside the pen, he turned down the light and went 
along the passage to his own room, closely fol- 
lowed by the dog. 


CHAPTER XV 


By Mr. Lingfield’s will his daughter was to be 
at liberty to live with whom she liked, and where 
she liked, the father merely indicating a wish 
that he would like her to travel whenever the 
opportunity occurred. 

He left his house in town and his money to his 
daughter, and all his other possessions to his 
wife, with the exception of some books and en- 
gravings to Bertha Heronworth, and a collec- 
tion of miniatures and some jewels to Drusilla. 

Mrs. Lingfield chose to be annoyed with the 
contents of her husband’s will. His death had 
shocked her, and, just for a few days, whilst the 
gloom of his death pervaded her life so notice- 
ably, she was really unhappy, and not unsympa- 
thetic to her stepdaughter; but the knowledge 
that Connie was now independent of her was 
quite sufficient to whip up all kinds of the latent 
forces. She had, in truth, always been jealous 
of Edmund Lingfield’s love for his daughter, 
just as she had been resentful of his frankly 
declared affection for her nieces. She had car- 
ried this old resentment against Bertha so far as 
to exclude the Misses Heronworth from the fu- 
neral ; and when, on being questioned, Connie con- 
fessed that her first move would be a visit to 

156 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


157 


Crowder Chase, Mrs. Lingfield lost her temper 
completely. 

“ Of course, you are now mistress of your own 
actions,” she said, “and can do what you like; 
but perhaps, when I tell you that I object very 
strongly to your staying with Bertha — at any 
rate, just now — this may have some weight with 
you.” 

Connie Lingfield listened in silence for a lit- 
tle while. 

She was very sad, and she was far from well. 
In these first bleak days of grief, she had turned 
to the thought of Bertha and Drusilla Heron- 
worth and their sympathy as to a kind of haven. 
Though she had not as yet confessed as much to 
herself, she was really eager to be away from 
her father’s wife. 

“Why don’t you wish me to go, mother?” 
she asked. 

And Mrs. Lingfield gave a prevaricating 
reason. 

“I don’t consider a visit to Crowder Chase 
will do you any good,” she said. “ Bertha is so 
depressing. You had far better go to your 
cousins in Hampshire.” Then she added: 
“ Business will take me to Crowder Chase very 
shortly, and, as we have to start our separate 
lives, we serve no good purpose by being there at 
the same time.” 

And so Connie Lingfield gave way, sacrificing 
her wishes, and changed her plans. She wrote a 
few lines to Drusilla: 


158 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“I wanted to come so much,” she said, “but 
mother has put it into her head that she must go 
to Crowder Chase, and I think perhaps I would 
rather come later on by myself. Jim was here 
again yesterday. He has been so good to me. 
He told us of your decision to be married 
quietly, and so much sooner; and I want you to 
know, darling Drusilla, how glad I am. Mother 
was so nice to him.” 

Miss Lingfield underlined the word ; and Dru- 
silla understood the other girl’s eager desire to 
try and smooth away, if possible, the disagree- 
able feelings which Mrs. Lingfield’s peculiar 
manner had aroused. 

The news, however, that Connie was not com- 
ing, and that her stepmother might be expected, 
was most unpalatable. 

Drusilla flared into a hot temper, and took 
the letter to her sister. 

“I am convinced,” said Drusilla, “that Aunt 
Edith has done something to prevent Connie 
coming. Beth dear, we must really have this 
out ! It is all very well imagining this, and sup- 
posing that, hut why should Aunt Edith be so 
catty? I was going to say beastly, but I suppose 
I had better not, although a cat is a beast, isn’t 
it?” 

Then in the next breath Drusilla demanded: 
“Must she come here? I won’t have her worry- 
ing you. If she has anything nasty to say, let 
her wait, and say it later.” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


159 


“I am afraid,” said Bertha, “we can hardly 
refuse to let her come.” 

“What!” asked Drusilla. “Not after all her 
horrid treatment of us? I don’t recognize any 
obligation to Aunt Edith; and I tell you quite 
frankly, Beth, that I don’t intend to have her at 
my wedding. She would be capable of stalking 
up the aisles and forbidding the banns, or some- 
thing of that sort. Well, I suppose she can’t 
forbid the banns exactly, but she would be sure 
to spoil everything; and I don’t want my wed- 
ding to be spoilt,” said Drusilla a little wistfully. 

Miss Heronworth made no answer to this 
tirade. Truth to tell, she felt unequal to deal 
with the situation. Her uncle’s death had been 
a veritable anguish, followed by a sense of lassi- 
tude and weakness such as had never come to her 
before. Edmund Lingfield had assured Beth 
more than once that there was nothing among 
his private papers which could lead to the dis- 
covery of the secret they held so precious; and 
there were times when Bertha Heronworth 
found herself clinging to the hope that her fears 
might only be the phantoms of her imagination, 
and that her aunt’s present attitude might after 
all merely be the expression of that peevish 
jealousy which had characterized her throughout 
her life. 

“I remember long ago,” Miss Heronworth 
said to herself once, “ that Aunt Edith was quite 
angry because old Lord Hursthaven fell so 
desperately in love with Drusilla when she was 


160 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


only a tiny, little mite. She was never jealous 
of me; but I suppose she must have felt, even 
all these years ago, that Drusilla would not only 
be beautiful as a woman, but that her mind, her 
heart, her intellect, would put her in a very high 
place. And Aunt Edith is one of those who crave 
for high places without having to struggle for 
them. Happiness has always been just close to 
her hand, and yet she has always missed it. When 
Jim talks with homage for all those who stand 
behind us, he must surely have forgotten that 
Aunt Edith, too, comes from these people — 
Aunt Edith, who is so little-minded, and yet so 
hard; so handsome in face, so plain in heart!” 

When it was definitely settled that Mrs. Ling- 
field was expected at Crowder Chase, Drusilla 
made no further protest. She resolved to go 
through whatever might come as patiently and 
as brightly as possible, purely on account of her 
sister. 

Christmas arrived and passed, and was spent 
calmly enough, and not unhappily, at Crowder 
Chase. 

After all, however, Brian Keston was not 
there. He went to London. His mother had 
written to him that she was not well; and for this 
reason, and for some others, which he did not tell 
even to himself, the young man left his work, 
and turned his back on everything that was now 
so beautiful to him. 

For once he found that his mother had not 
exaggerated. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


161 


Lady Draycott was very unwell; and in her 
illness she turned to her eldest child in a way that 
was almost pathetic. 

When they were alone one afternoon (Keston 
went each day to see her, though he would not 
stay in the house), Lady Draycott began speak- 
ing of his father. The subject was introduced 
naturally enough. 

Lady Draycott had been discussing Crowder 
Chase and the Carlingford marriage. This had 
led her to the usual fretful objection of her son’s 
position. 

“I am sure, if your poor, dear father could 
know what you are doing, it would have broken 
his heart,” she said. 

“ He was so proud of you, Brian, he intended 
you to be something very big and great; and he 
was so clever, so brilliant, that you, as his son, 
ought to have taken a splendid place in the 
world.” 

It was impossible for Brian to say anything. 
He much preferred to let his mother speak out 
all that was stored in her heart ; and it seemed to- 
day that she had some fresh material on which 
to speak. 

“ One or two people have been talking to me 
lately,” she said, “about poor Richard, people 
whom we used to know; and I have come to the 
conclusion, Brian, that we were very badly ad- 
vised — I mean that if your father had been a 
different kind of man, there would have been 
some money for us. You have met Mrs. Ling- 


162 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

field, haven’t you, an aunt of Miss Heron- 
worth’s?” 

Brian looked up. 

“Yes. What of her?” 

“ She came to see me two days ago, reminding 
me that we used to be friends at the time that 
you were a baby. She was talking all the time 
about your father and about the Spanriths. Do 
you know, Brian, she insists that there was 
money — that when George Spanrith died we 
ought to have got some of what we lost from 
the estate?” 

Brian Keston caught his breath quickly. 

“ I am awfully sorry, mother,” he said, “ that 
you have had all this old business stirred up 
again; nothing can come of it. As far as I am 
concerned, even if there were piles of Spanrith’s 
money laid up somewhere, I would not touch a 
farthing of it.” 

Lady Draycott moved fretfully on her pil- 
lows. 

“You are always like that,” she said — “diffi- 
cult, and pig-headed, and quixotic. If Spanrith 
could leave money to those belonging to him, he 
could give back some that he robbed from your 
father. Mrs. Lingfield promised to make in- 
quiries for me.” _ 

“Mrs. Lingfield is a chattering busybody,” 
said Brian Keston hotly; “and I don’t under- 
stand why she should come and unearth all this 
old business. .The pastJsMone with. She can’t 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 163 

bring my father back to life, but she can do a lot 
of harm by upsetting you in this way.” 

But when an idea took root in Lady Dray- 
cott’s mind, it was difficult to displace it. 

“If I could only have a little of what your 
father lost!” she said. And then there flashed 
into her voice a remembrance of an old spite. 
“I had no jewels and pearls in those days; but 
Helen Spanrith had everything she wanted! He 
used to literally pour diamonds on her! And 
such a house they had! And the airs that she 
used to give herself ! She loved to pose as a kind 
of patroness of art. Anyhow, she used to keep 
open house for literary people and musicians, 
and journalists and painters, and was everlast- 
ingly having her portrait painted. You ought 
to remember her, but I don’t suppose you do. 
She made a great fuss of you when you were a 
little boy.” 

“ I remember her very distinctly,” said Brian. 

He got up to go. This subject did more than 
depress him; it brought him to quite a bitter feel- 
ing towards Mrs. Lingfield. He stood pausing 
by the fireside, lost in thought, whilst his mother 
talked on. 

It was a long time since she had discussed old 
days; indeed, there had been times when Brian 
had felt that she had a nervous desire to avoid 
any mention of his father’s name. On this oc- 
casion, however, she was persistent in talking 
about things which had been buried for many, 


164 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


many years ; and, as he listened, there came back 
to Brian confused pictures of those old days — 
shuffled recollections and impressions; and one 
phase at least of his boyhood’s story visioned 
itself before him in almost tangible form. 

Often and often, when he had permitted him- 
self to sit and think over all he had lost, there 
had come back to him the remembrance of a very 
lovely and gracious personality which had passed 
intimately for a time in his homelife, and had 
claimed from him the fervid homage of a boy’s 
heart. He had still many little souvenirs which 
had been Mrs. Spanrith’s gifts to him. And 
then, suddenly, he had been bereft of this most 
womanly and enchanting influence. When he 
returned from school for his first holidays, Mrs. 
Spanrith had ceased to come to his home. His 
mother’s present fretful chatter cast enlighten- 
ment on what had been a mystery to the boy of 
those days. 

For what Brian the schoolboy had not been 
able to understand, Brian the man understood 
only too well. This other woman, wife of the 
man who later on betrayed his friend’s trust so 
cruelly, must have been endowed with just that 
perception and that exquisite sympathy which 
was so necessary, so vital, to a man such as his 
father had been. That his mother should have 
disliked this other could only have been inevita- 
ble. Thus was now explained why Helen Span- 
rith had drifted out of her place in his home- 
life. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


165 


“ I never have known,” he said in his abrupt 
way, “what became of her.” 

Lady Draycott shrugged her shoulders. 

“ She died. She followed him. I quite be- 
lieve he didn’t want her, for why should he have 
left her and bolted alone? But she would go, 
and she took her baby with her. It was a mad 
thing to do, because she was ill, but I suppose 
she thought she had a right to share all he had; 
and of course it was not pleasant to be turned 
out of her big house and have to go into horrid 
lodgings. As far as I was concerned, I was very 
glad w r hen she went, because your father was 
quite prepared to do all sorts of stupid things. 
He always had exaggerated ideas about Helen 
Spanrith, although, if she had been half so 
clever as she was supposed to be, I don’t see why 
she couldn’t have earned her own living when the 
crash came! And you will never make me be- 
lieve,” said Lady Draycott a little excitedly, 
“ that Helen did not know what was coming and 
what her husband was doing. If I had been 
given the home she had, and jewels and all sorts 
of things, I should naturally have wanted to 
know how my husband got the money. But she 
used to boast that she never knew what George 
did, that he told her nothing, and she just flung 
the money about anyhow.” 

Brian caught his breath with a kind of sigh. 

“Why go back to all this, dearest?” he asked. 
“ I repeat I think it a great pity Mrs. Lingfield 
should have chosen to speak to you about what. 


166 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


after all, is an intimate matter. Moreover, it 
lias been buried so many years; no good can 
be served by dragging it out of its grave now.” 

“ I don’t agree with you, Brian! As Mrs. Ling- 
field said, our case was not like hers. Your 
father didn’t speculate or gamble. It is pretty 
well known that if Spanrith ruined many people 
he helped to make fortunes for others. But what 
he did to us was so shameful, to come to a work- 
ing man like your father and ask him, for 
friendship’s sake, to lend him all the money he 
could, knowing that he was just pouring it 
away! I call that a crime! It was just because 
your father was so simple that Spanrith robbed 
him as he did. If he had had his wits about him 
he would have wanted to know something defin- 
itely before giving every penny he possessed; 
and I must say, Brian,” the little woman added, 
looking hot and excited, “ I do think your father 
should have known better. He should have 
thought of you and of me! Everybody knew 
what a spendthrift George Spanrith was and 
how enormously he gambled . . . .” 

Brian frowned painfully. He moved towards 
the bed and took his mother’s hand in his. 

“ Listen to me,” he said. “ Put all this on one 
side, mother. I am sure you must realize that 
you do no good by exciting yourself over this old 
business. What my father did was what you or 
I would have done, what any man would have 
done, to a friend whom he trusted. I never 
wanted that money, and your life has not been 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


167 


spoiled because it was lost. Let us forget it. As 
a great personal favour to myself I beg of you 
not to talk to Mrs. Lingfield or anyone else, and, 
above all, do not attempt to get in touch with any 
of the Spanrith family. It would be the height 
of absurdity to attempt to obtain a restitution of 
my father’s money at this late day.” 

Lady Draycott took her hand away from his. 

“ It is all very well for you to talk like that, 
Brian. You don’t care about money, and you 
don’t want it, but it is a different matter for me. 
I daresay you think I am extravagant, and that 
we ought to do splendidly with what we have, 
and I am not pretending that my husband is 
poor; but you cannot possibly understand what 
life means to a woman in my position. Now that 
the girls are getting older there will be all sorts 
of expenses, and I hate having to ask Sir Wil- 
liam for every penny I want. If you were in a 
different position, of course, it would be a dif- 
ferent matter, but since you are content to be a 
kind of servant ” 

Keston bit his lips quickly and then he took 
her hand once again and said: 

“Well, good-bye for to-day. I shall see what 
I can do to make things pleasanter for you. I 
can at least give you this satisfaction, mother, 
and that is, that as soon as I have finished the 
work I am doing for Miss Heronworth, I intend 
to strike out in some new direction, and I hope it 
won’t be necessary for you to reproach me in the 
future.” 


168 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


This turned Lady Draycott’s thoughts en- 
tirely into another channel. 

“ William has great influence,” she said, “ and 
I know he is still interested in you, Brian; and 
then you are so clever, I don’t see why you 
shouldn’t do great things yet!” 

Keston only smiled as he bent to kiss her, and 
then he went away. 

It surprised him to realize as he left the house 
how angry, how hotly indignant, he felt with 
Mrs. Lingfield. 

He could not in the least grasp her object in 
going to his mother in the first place and in dis- 
cussing such an old intimate subject in the sec- 
ond. 

He had a fairly accurate acquaintance now 
with Mrs. Lingfield’s character and her general 
scheme of life. He was well aware that such a 
woman was a born gossiper and possible scandal- 
monger. Nevertheless, he found it difficult to 
discover any reason why this old subject should 
have been raked up : there was an element about 
the whole matter which annoyed and even dis- 
quieted him. Though he had told his mother that 
it was his firm intention to leave his present work 
as soon as possible, Keston found himself count- 
ing the hours till he should be back at Crowder 
Chase, and this although he was quite resolved 
not only to cut himself adrift from sympathies 
which were becoming dangerously necessary to 
him, but because his mother’s words had stirred 
in him remembrances of his father’s plans and 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 169 

ambitions for his boy, and there came to Brian 
the feeling that perhaps he had not done the very 
best for himself hitherto. At any rate, he went 
so far as to delight his mother by having a busi- 
ness discussion with his stepfather, and for the 
first time showing a disposition to accept such 
influence and interest as Sir William Draycott 
had at his disposal. Yet despite this, when he 
found himself travelling back to his work, he 
drifted wholly away from all that which had 
been discussed between himself and Sir William, 
and yielded himself entirely to the delight which 
his return to Crowder Chase signified to him. 

He did not see Drusilla on his arrival, but 
Bertha Heronworth was there to meet him. She 
told him that she was quite well, but Keston 
found her looking anything but well. She 
seemed to have grown smaller, and in her black 
gown she had a pathetic look. It had been an old 
joke with Drusilla to tease her sister about the 
way her gowns were fashioned. 

“You only want a nice long gold chain/’ she 
used to say, “ and a cameo brooch, and then you 
would be just like a housekeeper.” 

The quaint little cuffs and turned-down bands 
of linen which Beth generally wore with a house 
dress were absent now, and Brian Keston missed 
the relief. 

She asked him some questions about his mother. 
There was an eager note in her voice, a tender 
interest which touched him unconsciously, for 
he felt pretty certain that there could not be too 


170 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


much sympathy between Bertha Heronworth 
and a woman like his mother. 

“We have missed you very much, Mr. Keston,” 
Miss Heronworth said when she gave him tea. 
“ Drusilla undertook to dust the library, but she 
only did it once; I did it the other days. We felt 
that you would rather the servants did not go in.” 

“How is your sister?” the young man asked 
after a little pause, and Beth smiled. 

“Happy and well — so happy — thank God! 
There is such real sunshine in Drusilla’s heart! 
She doesn’t forget, she never will forget, but she 
is not made for sadness and shadow.” 

“ She is really a child,” said Brian Keston, 
“ and it is the province of children to be happy.” 

They were silent a minute or two, and then 
Bertha Heronworth said: 

“ I only hope my aunt, who is coming to-mor- 
row, will not upset Drusilla.” 

“You expect Mrs. Lingfield?” Keston said, 
with some surprise ; then involuntarily he added : 
“ I am sorry.” 

“ So am I,” said Bertha quickly, “but I can’t 
prevent Aunt Edith coming. As a matter of 
fact, I suppose I ought to regard it as an honour 
in a way that she should wish to be with us lust 
now.” 

“ Perhaps,” said Brian Keston, but he said it 
dubiously, and then, yielding to impulse, he told 
Miss Heronworth of her aunt’s visit to his 
mother. 

“ I could almost find it in my heart to wish 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


171 


that she had not gone,” he said. “ I suppose it 
was inevitable that she should speak of my 
father, as they used to know one another very 
well, and perhaps with any other person this 
would not have mattered; but my mother is so 
very easily upset.” 

Bertha Heronworth was looking at him nerv- 
ously, eagerly. 

“How did Aunt Edith upset your mother?” 
she asked. 

And he told her exactly what had happened. 

When he looked at her he was amazed to see 
that Bertha Heronworth had grown, if possible, 
paler. Her lips were pinched together and her 
eyes dilated as though she were suffering some 
sharp pain. For a moment Brian Keston stood 
looking at her, conscious of suffering himself 
because he could not possibly help her. 

It dawned upon him in this moment of silence 
that he was drawing very closely to some secret 
significance of the change wrought of late in 
Drusilla’s sister. He spoke to her abruptly. 

“ Why do you have her here? ” he asked. 

And Bertha with an effort answered him 
evasively: 

“ She has a right to come.” 

If she had spoken out she would have said: 
“ I let her come because I am afraid of what she 
may do if she does not come!” 

And she was wholly ignorant that the man 
who was watching her instinctively gathered the 
burden of these thoughts. Even if he would 


m 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


have said anything, however, he had no chance, 
for at that moment Drusilla flashed into the 
room. 

She had been for a long motor drive. 

“Beth,” she said as she untwisted the folds 
of gauze from her hat and throat, “I want you 
to do me a big favour. Please write and tell 
Jim that I disobeyed his orders, but that I am 
alive just the same; and do, like a lamb, give me 
a cup of tea, the wind has parched my throat. 
Oh! Mr. Keston, how do you do? How nice to 
see you again! It has been very mournful here 
without you, hasn’t it, Beth? I haven’t been 
able to go near the library: I knew I should 
weep.” 

“What orders have you disobeyed?” asked 
Miss Heronworth, as she poured out some tea. 

Drusilla laughed and pulled her chair right up 
to the fire. 

“Well, you must know,” she said, “that when 
I drove Jim to the station yesterday I told him 
that Wilkins was going to give me lessons, and 
that I intended to be a first-rate driver by the 
time I saw him again ; and he got horribly fright- 
ened, and made me swear — well, not exactly 
swear — but made me promise that I wouldn’t 
have these lessons.” She took the tea which Kes- 
ton handed to her and the hot cake, and ate and 
sipped for a moment; and then she said: “ And I 
quite intended to keep my swear-promise, but 
when Wilkins came round for orders the car 
looked so fascinating I simply had to go, and, 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 173 

my dear, I have driven I don’t know how many 
miles, and I haven’t killed a thing.” 

“ You will have to make your own confession,” 
said Bertha. 

“Then I shan’t make it at all,” Drusilla re- 
marked. 

She glanced up at Brian Keston. 

He had drifted back into his customary awk- 
wardness. 

“Don’t be shocked,” she said. “By that I 
mean I’ll choose my moment. There should be 
tact in everything, more especially in the making 
of a confession. Don’t you think so, Mr. Kes- 
ton?” 

Apparently Mr. Keston had no views on the 
subject, for he went away almost directly. 

“ I think he has swallowed a new poker since 
he has been in town,” said Drusilla; then she 
looked across at her sister: “Is your head still 
bad, darling? I’ll come across and kiss it and 
then it will be better.” 

But as she rose to do this Bertha rose, too. 

“Dearest,” she said, “I have a favour to ask 
you in my turn, and a big favour, too! I want 
you to do as Lady Torchester has asked you: 
pack your things and go and stay with her to- 
morrow.” 

“Why?” asked Drusilla. “Do you want to 
get rid of me?” 

She put out one cold little hand and Beth 
held it in both of hers. 

“I don’t want you to be annoyed,” she an- 


174 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


swered. “After all, there is no real reason why 
you should be here when Aunt Edith comes.” 

“On the contrary,” said Drusilla, “there is 
every reason. I am not going to have you tram- 
pled on, and I have promised that I will be ever 
so good. I have made up my mind, Beth, that I 
will think the best of Aunt Edith, no matter how 
aggravating she is. I won’t say or do anything 
to vex her, I’ll just be an angel! I don’t want to 
go away from you, Beth. Besides, Flora knows 
she is not to expect me. Jim told me that he 
should see her last night and explain how im- 
possible it was for me to stay with her just now.” 

Miss Heronworth pressed her lips together for 
an instant, then she said : 

“ Very well,” and made no further protest; and 
at that moment Durning brought in a telegram 
for Drusilla. 

“From Jim,” she said with a laugh and a 
blush. “I think it is a lucky thing we haven’t 
got a telephone. I believe I should be standing 
talking to him all day long. I must write to him, 
and, Beth, my sweetest, I will confess ! ” 


CHAPTER XVI 


Keston had been back at his work about two 
days when there came another summons from 
town. This time it was Sir William Draycott 
who wrote, and this fact in itself impressed the 
young man with the conviction that his mother 
had real need of him. 

When it was made known that he had to go to 
London, Drusilla openly deplored his departure. 
She waylaid him in the hall. 

“ Oh ! must you go ? ” she said. “ Oh ! you don’t 
know what a comfort you have been to us ! Do 
come back soon! Aunt Edith is behaving so 
sweetly. I suppose she knew we were preparing 
ourselves for something very disagreeable, and 
she thought she would disappoint us; but I am 
not really disappointed or deceived. Her sweet- 
ness means something else; and when this other 
thing comes, I want you near at hand to fall back 
upon.” 

Keston looked at her. Mad and hopeless as 
he knew it to be, even these words, lightly spoken 
and meaning nothing at all, had the power to 
move him. 

“ If I can really do anything,” he said, “ I — I 
won’t go.” 

“Of course, I don’t know that you can do any- 
thing,” said Drusilla meditatively, “ except per- 

175 


176 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


haps you might stand in front of me if Aunt 
Edith wanted to throw a plate at me.” Then 
with a sudden remembrance: “But, of course, 
you must go. Lady Draycott would never for- 
give us if we stopped your going.” 

“ I will come back to-morrow,” said Keston. 

“Yes, do,” said Drusilla, “and then you can 
continue giving me lessons. I don’t mean to let 
you shirk my education, because I shall have to 
try and be so clever when I am Lady Carling- 
ford! And do you know, Mr. Keston, I don’t 
really care one bit about being clever; I want 
only to be happy. I would like to live all my life 
in sunshine and flowers. I say this,” she added, 
with half a sigh and half a laugh, “ although all 
the time I am trying to brace myself up to be a 
strong, important, political person! Are you 
going now? Oh! do let me drive you to the sta- 
tion in the motor? ” 

She clapped her hands and ran to put on her 
warm things; and she was in the highest spirits 
as a little while later she whisked the car down 
the drive into the road. But when she had said 
“ Good-bye ” to Keston, and left him at the sta- 
tion, she relinquished the car to the chauffeur 
and walked home instead. 

It was odd how that instinctive sense that some 
anxiety was lurking in ambush against her had 
taken possession of Drusilla’s mind. Although 
she tried to argue herself out of the suggestion 
that her aunt could be really inimical to her, the 
unpleasant feeling of doubt remained. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


177 


“ And yet what can she do? ” mused the girl to 
herself. “It is true she has never cared very 
much about me, but she has never cared very 
much about anybody. I should have imagined 
she would have been more likely to want to be 
good friends with me now. What does she gain 
by quarrelling with me? ” 

So Drusilla mused to herself, and yet she could 
not convince herself. 

“Whenever I feel Aunt Edith looking at me, 
I turn a little cold. Well, I must put up with 
this just for a little while longer; and, after 
all, I wouldn't care two pins if it weren’t for 
Beth.” 

Just before she reached home she unfolded a 
little slip of paper which Keston had given to her 
when he had alighted from the car. 

She had been jestingly asking him to leave her 
some home lessons to do whilst he was away, and 
he had taken out his pencil and scribbled these 
few words on a page of his note-book. 

Drusilla had forgotten them, but in taking her 
handkerchief out of her muff this little piece of 
paper fluttered to the ground. 

She smiled as she stopped and opened it. 

Keston had written a quotation from one of 
Kingsley’s poems: 


Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever : 
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long. 


She blushed as she read this, and she folded 


178 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


up the paper very closely and slipped it into the 
palm of her glove. 

“ That was very nice of him,” she said. And 
she went the rest of the homeward way quite 
comforted. 

She found her aunt alone in the drawing-room 
where tea was prepared. 

“You must be cold,” said Mrs. Lingfield. “ I 
don’t know how you can go in a motor in this 
wind — in fact, I don’t know how you care about 
motors at all; I think they are horrid things.” 

“Oh! Aunt Edith, you must let me make a 
convert of you. Come out with me to-morrow? 
We’ll go ever so slowly and you shall stop the 
moment you want to.” 

But Mrs. Lingfield shook her head. 

“ No, thank you, my dear, I value my life too 
much. Will you give me some tea? Bertha said 
we were not to wait for her; she is interviewing 
some person from the Rectory.” 

Drusilla had shed her heavy wraps in the hall. 
She still wore her hat and big white gauze veil, 
but even this disfiguring head covering could not 
dim her beauty. Although she was really nerv- 
ous, she exerted herself to be as pleasant as 
possible. 

“ This is where I have to be good,” she said to 
herself, “and do a noble thing, not dream it.” 

And Mrs. Lingfield seemed extraordinarily 
amiable. Outwardly she had every semblance 
that is attached to a person whom one calls sym- 
pathetic. Her plumpness suggested maternal 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


179 


solicitude and comfort. She was very handsome 
in her heavy black gown, and the pretence of a 
widow’s cap she wore set off her really comely 
looks. 

“ Now I do wonder why it is I can’t like her? ” 
asked Drusilla of herself. “ She looks as if one 
ought to be able to take her in one’s arms and 
cuddle her, but I should be awfully sorry to do 

After she had partaken of two or three cups 
of tea, Mrs. Lingfield settled back in her chair. 

“ Have you decided to have those saphires re- 
set?” she asked. 

Drusilla coloured. She felt that this was draw- 
ing close to dangerous ground. 

“ I haven’t thought about it yet. As a matter 
of fact, I have hardly looked at the treasures 
dear Uncle Edmund left for me. The only thing 
I took out of the box is this little brooch which I 
wear every day.” 

“You ought to wear the pearls,” said Mrs. 
Lingfield. “ They are very good ones, although 
I believe Edmund paid a fancy price for them; 
but then he was always imposed upon, always do- 
ing ridiculous things! Those jewels, my dear 
Drusilla, which he left you once belonged to a 
woman who would have died of starvation if it 
had not been for Edmund.” 

“ They are dearer to me for that,” said Dru- 
silla,” speaking on the impulse of the moment. 
“ I know they are beautiful, but Uncle Edmund’s 
charity has given them a new beauty.” 


180 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“A charming sentiment,” said Mrs. Lingfield, 
laughing slightly. “For my part, I don’t 
care for second-hand jewels, and I should cer- 
tainly never care to wear anything which had 
been obtained in the first instance by fraud.” 

Drusilla drew in her breath quickly. She had 
been straining her ears to catch the first sound of 
her sister’s coming ; now she got up and said : 

“ I am sure Beth ought to have some tea.” 

As she moved towards the door Mrs. Lingfield 
said: 

“ Don’t go away, I want to speak to you. I 
have here some other things which belong to you. 
I found them among Mr. Lingfield’s papers.” 

“Something for me,” said Drusilla, turning 
back, though not willingly. “ I think I have had 
more than my share.” 

And to this Mrs. Lingfield assented. 

“ I think you have,” she said. 

The girl stood by the fire and felt her heart 
beating very quickly. 

Her thoughts reverted to Brian Keston and to 
the little scribbled lesson he had left her. 

“ It is harder to do than he thinks,” she said 
to herself. 

Mrs. Lingfield had taken up a small box which 
had been lying on a little table close to her side. 

“Some more of poor Edmund’s purchases,” 
she said. And she took out two or three minia- 
tures and handed one to the girl. “ I want you 
to look at that very carefully,” she said. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 181 

Drusilla looked at the small oval picture in her 
hand. The frame was set with diamonds. 

The lamps had not been lit, but there was a 
good blaze from the fire, and turning towards 
this light, she could see the miniatures distinctly. 

It was the portrait of a woman. 

“How lovely !” she said. “How beautifully 
done, and what a sweet face! ” 

“Idealized,” said Mrs. Lingfield. “Every- 
body looks lovely in a miniature. In real life that 
woman was not a bit beautiful; at least, I never 
thought so.” 

“ Does this belong to the other miniatures which 
Uncle Edmund left to me?” 

Mrs. Lingfield said “No” sharply. “This is 
modern work,” she said ; “ the others are all valu- 
able. Of course, this cost a great deal of money, 
but modern miniatures don’t count for very much 
as works of art.” 

She took the second frame and handed it to 
Drusilla. 

This was a miniature of a baby, and the mo- 
ment Drusilla looked at it she exclaimed : 

“Oh! what a duck! Isn’t that little chap en- 
chanting? Is this modern too, Aunt Edith? ” 

“That,” said Mrs. Lingfield, in a deliberate 
sort of way, “ is supposed to be a portrait of your- 
self.” 

“Of me?” 

That nervous sensation rushed with a swirl 
about Drusilla’s heart again. 


182 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

“ Is it possible? ” she said, with a hurried little 
laugh, “ that I was ever so angelic as this? ” 

“I daresay you were a very ordinary little 
child,” said Mrs. Lingfield; “but, as I said just 
now, miniatures are of no significance as por- 
traits.” 

“ All the same, I like to think somebody imag- 
ined I could look like this,” said Drusilla. 

She had bent down to the firelight and now 
she stood erect again. 

“ Thank you very much, Aunt Edith, for giv- 
ing me this.” 

“You can thank me by and by,” said Mrs. 
Lingfield, and in the same breath she asked: 
“You see some resemblance in the other minia- 
ture?” 

“ Yes, I do,” said Drusilla; “but I can’t think 
who it is this miniature reminds me of.” 

“You have grown very like your mother 
lately; that miniature was taken of your mother 
when you were a baby.” 

“My mother!” said Drusilla; then she began 
to tremble. “My mother!” she said again, with 
a catch in her voice. 

Mrs. Lingfield got up imposingly. 

“ I daresay, Drusilla,” she said, “ you have been 
wondering lately why I was so cold about your 
engagement — why I have seemed unkind per- 
haps.” 

Drusilla looked into the other woman’s eyes ; and 
what she read there whipped her courage to arms. 

“You have been most unkind,” she said; “but 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


183 


that was comprehensible, I suppose, because you 
have never cared for me.” 

Mrs. Lingfield paused an instant and then an- 
swered : 

“Well, since we are speaking frankly, I con- 
fess I have not been too fond of you; something 
always seemed to divide us. It was an instinct 
I expect, for I never knew the truth about you 
till those few days we were down here just when 
you were engaged.” 

Drusilla put down the miniatures on the tea- 
table. 

“ What is the truth about me? ” she asked. And 
then very quickly she added: “ No; I don’t think 
I want you to tell me. If there is anything I 
ought to know Beth shall speak, even if it be 
something that is going to hurt me; it won’t be 
so bad if I hear it from Beth.” 

“ Bertha ought to have spoken years ago,” said 
Mrs. Lingfield shrilly. “It is just because she 
has failed in her duty that I ” 

But Drusilla moved away from her. At that 
moment she heard the door open, and as she 
went across the room Bertha Heronworth passed 
into it. 

Drusilla put her arms about Bertha’s small 
figure and she pressed it close to her heart; then 
with a break in her voice, she said : 

“ Darling, I am so glad you have come. Aunt 
Edith, it seems, has something very important 
to tell me. She — she says there is something I 
have to know about myself, but I don’t want to 


184 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

listen to her, Beth, dearest. ... If there is 
anything, you will tell me, won’t you? ” 

Bertha Heronworth gave a little cry, recoiled 
for one instant, and then pressed closer to Dru- 
silla. 

“Oh!” she said, “my dearest! my dearest!” 

Then Mrs. Lingfield spoke from the back- 
ground. 

“I have been waiting,” she said in the same 
shrill, hard way, “waiting for you, Bertha, to do 
what was just and proper, and I have been horri- 
fied to realize that you had evidently no intention 
of letting Drusilla know who she is, and how 
little right she has to the name she has used and 
the place she has filled all these years.” 

Bertha had her face pressed close to Drusilla’s. 

“Leave us, darling,” she said brokenly. “I 
entreat you, let me be alone with Aunt Edith.” 

But Drusilla shook her head. 

“ I can’t go now. You know, don’t you, sweet- 
heart, I would do anything you ask me if it were 
possible, but I have to hear all there is to hear, 
and I want to hear it now.” 

Bertha kissed her in a long, fervent kiss and 
then released her. Then she moved with amazing 
dignity, despite her lame step, up to where her 
aunt stood. 

“By what right have you dared to deal with 
this?” she asked. “I won’t ask you how you 
have become acquainted with the secret which 
dear Uncle Edmund and I have guarded all these 
years, for I am afraid this knowledge has come 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 185 

to you in no honest way; but let that he. No 
matter what you know, you have not the faintest 
right to enter into this matter.” 

“ Possibly,” said Mrs. Lingfield, getting very 
angry; “but then, you see, our ideas of what is 
right do not agree ; that is the diff erence between 
us. You have always set yourself up to be such 
a monument of honour, and I have made no pre- 
tence to be better than my neighbours; and yet, 
my dear Bertha, I should be very much ashamed 
to have acted as you have acted.” 

“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” said 
Bertha Heronworth quietly. “No wrong has 
been done to anyone ” 

Mrs. Lingfield repeated this sentence in a shrill 
voice. 

“No wrong done! What about the world, our 
family — me? What about Lord Carlingford? 
You call it no wrong to let a marriage of any sort, 
but more especially such a marriage as this, take 
place without informing the man who is going to 
marry Drusilla that she is not your sister, not my 
niece — that she only bears the name of Heron- 
worth by courtesy and charity?” 

Drusilla was standing just a yard or two away. 
She made no sound, but suddenly she put out her 
hand, and drawing a chair near, she sat down. 

“You call that no wrong?” repeated Mrs. 
Lingfield. “Well, let me tell you that I call it 
infamous! ” 

Then Mrs. Lingfield, feeling her excitement 
evaporate, began to be a little uncomfortable. 


186 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Drusilla was looking at her, and in the firelight 
the girl’s face looked curiously changed and hag- 
gard. 

For weeks the woman had been working up for 
this moment, but now, when she felt that she was 
in direct touch with something closely akin to 
tragedy, she was afraid of what she had done. 
Picking up her shawl she put it about her shoul- 
ders. 

“ You have brought this on yourself,” she said. 
“If you had chosen to be straightforward, there 
wouldn’t have been any bother at all, but I felt it 
my duty to speak out to Drusilla, to give her the 
chance, at least, of behaving honourably. You 
don’t suppose,” said Mrs. Lingfield, almost 
whimpering, “that I care about this sort of 
thing. It has — it has upset me very much, and I 
am not in a fit state to be upset. My poor hus- 
band’s illness tried me terribly. I shall stay in 
my room this evening.” 

She got across to the door rather ungracefully. 
The silence of these two young women was not 
merely oppressive; it was alarming, and she did 
not like to look at Drusilla. 

As the door closed behind her Bertha Heron- 
worth covered her face with her hands, and then 
Drusilla got up. 

“ Now, please,” she said, “ tell me everything.” 

She spoke with extraordinary composure. 
There was firmness, but no hardness, in her tone. 

For the space of a half a moment, perhaps, 
Bertha Her on worth remained with her face cov- 
ered, and then she let her hands drop. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 187 

“ Oh ! this is so cruel,” she said brokenly, “ so 
cruel!” 

Drusilla put out her hand and clasped one of 
Bertha’s tenderly. As she released it she said: 

“Nothing would have been cruel if it had 
come from you.” 

“Oh, don’t, don’t!” said the other woman in 
the same broken voice. “At least,” she added, 
“ try not to make this harder.” 

Drusilla caught her breath in a catching sort 
of way. There was a reflection of her usual man- 
ner in her voice as she said : 

“Has Aunt Edith been telling me the truth, 
or has she only been indulging in one of her play- 
ful moods? It — it seems so funny; I am Dru- 
silla Heronworth, am I not, Beth?” 

“You are my sister, my child, my dearest,” 
Bertha Heronworth answered. “No tie of blood 
could make you closer than you are.” 

Drusilla moved aside a little quickly. 

“ Still,” she said, and her voice was now quite 
unsteady, “still, that means that there is some- 
thing mysterious that I have to know — that Aunt 
Edith has been telling the truth for once! Oh! 
Beth, why have I not been told all that I ought to 
have known?” Swiftly she changed her voice. 
“No; I don’t want to say that; I don’t want to 
say anything horrid or unkind. I just want to 
know where I stand, why this has happened, and 
if I am not your sister, who I really am? ” 

She bent forward to the tea-table and took up 
the miniature which Mrs. Lingfield had given 
her. 


188 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“ Can you tell me whose portrait this is? ” 

Bertha Heronworth took the jewelled frame in 
her trembling hand. She looked at it long and 
silently. 

“According to Aunt Edith, that miniature is 
supposed to be my mother; but if this was my 
mother, what about the mother and father whose 
pictures are standing on my mantelpiece upstairs 
now? The mother and father I remember so 
distinctly.’’ 

Bertha Heronworth sat down in a chair and she 
stretched out her hand imploringly to Drusilla. 

“ Give me time,” she said, “ and — and — I will 
tell you everything.” 

Drusilla said: 

“Very well, I’ll go upstairs and take off these 
things, and then I’ll come back to you.” 

She moved quickly to the door, and then she 
retraced her steps, and bending over Bertha, she 
kissed her on the brow. 

“ Remember,” she said, “ I want to know all — 
all . As I said just now to Aunt Edith, nothing 
will hurt quite so much if you tell it to me.” 

After that she turned and went away quickly 
out of the room. 

In the hall beyond, Durning, the butler, met 
her and gave her some letters and small packages. 

Although the actual date of her marriage had 
not been made known publicly, many gifts were 
finding their way to Crowder Chase, especially 
from members of the Heronworth family, to all 
of whom Bertha had written. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


189 


Drusilla thanked the butler with her usual 
pretty smile, and, gathering her letters, went up- 
stairs to her room. 

She went slowly, with none of her usual light- 
ness. 

Nothing was clear with her; only the cold 
knowledge that something strange was happen- 
ing, something even terrible, which lay like a 
tangible burden on her shoulders. 

When she was inside her own room she stood 
and looked about her as one who sees things 
through a thick mist. She made her way to the 
little table by her bed, on which stood her most 
cherished possessions, and took up Carlingford’s 
portrait. She looked at it possessed with a kind 
of sudden anguish. 

“Am I to lose you?” she said hoarsely; “am 
I — am I? Oh! my God! How shall I be able 
to bear this?” 

The picture slipped from her fingers and fell 
to the ground. She let it lie for a moment, and 
then stooping, she picked it up and put it back 
into its accustomed place. 

“ I must try and be very quiet,” she said, “ and 
not make any fuss. My poor Beth! ” 

She changed her shoes and took off her motor 
hat and veil, and she even paused to run a comb 
through her pretty, wavy hair; then she went 
back to the drawing-room. 

Bertha was walking to and fro, and stood still 
as Drusilla came in. 

“Darling!” said Drusilla, putting her arms 


190 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


around that small figure. “Do try and not fret 
yourself. Just let us sit down, and you shall tell 
me all you think I ought to know ; nothing more.” 

There was a wail in Bertha Heronworth’s 
voice when she spoke. 

“Aunt Edith knows how to strike! ” 

“ Oh! ” said Drusilla almost impatiently. “ We 
must forget Aunt Edith. Perhaps she is not so 
much to blame. Perhaps she was chosen just by 
fate; anyhow, she doesn’t count. Look here, 
Beth dear, whilst I have been upstairs I have 
been thinking. It was brutal to ask why you 
haven’t told me this — this mystery about myself, 
because I know so well why you haven’t done it : 
it is just because you have loved me so much; 
because all my life, ever since I can remember 
anything, your one thought has been to make me 
happy, to give me pleasure, to put beautiful 
things about me. You don’t suppose I am going 
to forget that now. Why, I should be a hateful 
creature if I did! Come and sit down in your 
own old chair.” 

She led Bertha across to the fire and pulled the 
chair forward ; and she let her hand lie in Bertha’s 
as she knelt on the hearthrug. 

“You must begin,” she said, with a painful 
little laugh, “as all wonderful stories begin: 
‘ Once upon a time.’ ” 

“ There is a romance in your story,” said Ber- 
tha, in her low voice, “and pathos and beauty; 
and whatever sorrow may come to you from what 
you must now know, I want you to realize that 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 191 

your mother was one of the sweetest of human 
beings. I have only a dim recollection of her 
myself, because I was quite a little child when she 
died ; but her memory has been cherished by those 
who knew her as one only cherishes things which 
are very precious. She was greatly beloved, Dru- 
silla, and greatly mourned.” 

“ Yes,” said Drusilla, and her lips quivered and 
there were tears in her eyes. “And her name 
was ” 

“ Her name was Helen Spanrith. She was not 
only a dearly loved girl-friend of my mother’s, 
but she was a connection also. My grandfather 
was her guardian; and she and my mother were 
brought up like sisters.” 

Bertha was saying this very eagerly, but she 
was watching Drusilla’s face, and her heart con- 
tracted as she saw that the girl was not listening. 

“ There was always the closest, the tenderest 
friendship between my mother and her cousin, 
and when trouble came in black and terrible 
fashion, it was granted to my parents the joy of 
showing their love and sympathy and protection 
to Helen Spanrith.” 

Drusilla had slipped her hand away from 
Bertha’s and was standing by the fire now. 

“Spanrith!” she said to herself. “Spanrith! 
Surely I have heard that name. It seems fa- 
miliar.” And suddenly a curious little cry fell 
from her lips. “ Ah! ” she said, “ I remember! It 
is Mr. Keston who spoke it ; from Mr. Keston I 
heard it. Don’t you remember, Beth, that day 


192 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


we went up to London when you found me cry- 
ing in my room ” 

She broke off, and, turning, she looked at the 
other woman. Little by little her brain was piec- 
ing things together. 

“Was George Spanrith my father?” she 
asked. 

And Bertha Heronworth answered: 

“Yes.” 

There was more pressing on her heart, more 
that she ached to say, but there are times when 
words are impossible, and this was one. Drusilla 
turned round and stared into the fire. 

“ Go on,” she said ; “ please tell me all the rest.” 

“The marriage was never one approved of, 
but your mother lost her heart, and being wilful, 
and of age, she had her own way. Uncle Edmund 
has frequently told me that it was the easiest 
thing in the world to understand why your mother 
chose to make her life with Mr. Spanrith. Uncle 
Edmund was the only one of your mother’s old 
friends who remained staunch to her throughout 
her married life. There was nothing to draw my 
father and George Spanrith together; in fact, 
everything to divide them, and so my mother and 
Mrs. Spanrith drifted a little apart for a time, 
at least. When they met it was abroad. Chance 
brought them together again. Your mother was 
travelling with you, a dear little baby of a few 
months old, trying to make her way to meet your 
father. She was lying ill in a little town in 
Switzerland, lacking money, lacking every- 
thing.” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 193 

Bertha locked and unlocked her cold hands as 
she spoke. 

“It was the story of her misery and distress 
told to my mother by the English doctor of the 
place which led to their meeting,” she said. “ It 
was there your mother died, Drusilla, and there 
that you passed into my parents’ care. In 
those days my father and mother were travelling 
on the continent in an easy, dawdling fashion. 
They had no occasion to hurry homewards, and as 
you have often been told, they became so enam- 
ored of Italy that they lived away from England 
till I was ten years old. At first I do not think 
they had intended to deceive any one in connec- 
tion with you; but as time passed, and the little 
daughter who was born to them just shortly after 
they had adopted you did not live, it seemed so 
easy to put you into that little dead child’s place. 
This will explain to you why Aunt Edith and 
other of the Heronworth people have never ques- 
tioned, never known anything about you. Uncle 
Edmund alone knew, for remembering his tender 
affection for your mother, my parents thought 
it only right that he should be told what they had 
decided to do. Later on, at Uncle Edmund’s 
suggestion, I was told also, and we were ap- 
pointed your guardians.” 

Bertha Heronworth broke off and sighed nerv- 
ously. She looked at Drusilla standing so quietly 
by the fireside; she yearned to approach the girl, 
but Drusilla’s composure held her aloof. 

As she paused, Drusilla spoke: 

“ And my father? ” 


194 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“Your father, I believe, understood that you 
died when your mother died ; of this, however, I 
have no proof. . . . But no one was in direct 
communication with him.” 

“No; I suppose not,” said Drusilla; in the 
same breath she added: “Please, Beth, tell me 
exactly what he did? I know now that Mr. Kes- 
ton held him to be so detestable that he grew weary 
of cursing the name of George Spanrith, but — 
but I think I have the right to be more fully in- 
formed. . . .” 

Bertha Heron worth sighed sharply. 

“You are so young and have lived so entirely 
out of the world till this last year, that you may 
not understand how sometimes mere folly may 
be regarded as criminal. I have often heard 
Uncle Edmund declare that Mr. Spanrith was 
no worse than dozens of other men. He was ter- 
ribly extravagant ; he liked to live well ; to be pop- 
ular, he loved to see his beautiful wife in a beau- 
tiful home, and he left no chance untouched to 
provide him with the money he needed. What- 
ever you may think or hear, Drusilla,” Bertha 
Heron worth said earnestly, “one fact is certain: 
your f ather adored your mother and she returned 
his devotion. If she had known of what was 
passing with him — if she had been able to influ- 
ence him — some of the trouble might perhaps 
have been averted, for she never loved luxury, 
and would have been content with a modest life. 
But she never knew the truth ; she imagined that 
she had married an exceedingly wealthy man. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


195 


When the crash came, however, she showed of 
what stuff she was made! All that was possible 
to her your mother did, selling everything she 
possessed, even the jewels of her own mother, 
and those which had belonged to her as a girl, to 
meet the overwhelming disaster. ... It was 
as a beggar — and a broken-hearted one — that my 
parents found her; and yet, ill as she was and 
suffering in mind and body, she was struggling 
on to rejoin the man she loved; the man, who, at 
that time, had not a friend in the world.” 

Drusilla turned. She looked at Bertha. There 
were tears in her eyes, and the sound of tears in 
her voice as she spoke: 

“ I said, didn’t I, that nothing would hurt so 
much if you were to tell it to me? ” Then with a 
swift movement, she covered her face with her 
hands and shuddered. “ And yet,” she said, with 
a break in her voice, “it is — it is so difficult, so 
strange. I can’t realize it ; I don’t believe I shall 
ever realize it. You see,” she said wearily, “it 
has changed everything.” 

Bertha got up very quickly from her chair. 

“ No,” she said; “ you are wrong; that is where 
you are wrong, Drusilla; nothing need be 
changed. You are what you are, what you have 
always been. We will take steps at once to make 
the legal use of our name firm.” 

Drusilla looked at the strained white face 
through a mist of tears. 

“ Beth, dear,” she said, “don’t you understand 
that it isn’t a question of law, it is a question of 


196 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


the truth. You may give me everything you 
possess; you may bind me by every means in 
your power, but you can’t alter the one great fact 
that I am not your sister — not a Heronworth, 
only an alien creature, who has been masquerad- 
ing all these years in borrowed plumes ! Oh ! you 
don’t know how it hurts me, Beth, to know that I 
have been a kind of living lie ! Many and many 
a time — I know it now, though I didn’t under- 
stand it very clearly when it happened — I have 
felt that people envied me; that lots of them 
were jealous of me. It is horrible even to 
imagine what all these people would think and 
say about me now ! ” 

“Dearest, dearest,” said Bertha Heronworth 
passionately. “Why do you torture yourself? 
N o one shall ever know. Aunt E dith has done her 
worst, she has gratified all the spite that she has 
felt for you, but Aunt Edith can be made to hold 
her silence. Oh! dearest, you are going to leave 
yourself in my hands? You are going to be 
guided entirely by me in this? If I have done 
wrong in keeping the truth from you, you must 
give me a chance of really protecting you now.” 

Drusilla kissed her. 

“As far as I can,” she said, “I will leave my- 
self in your hands, but ” — she caught her breath 
— “ I mustn’t make you any promises, for I do 
not see my way clearly, and I might be forced to 
break them.” 

“ At least, promise me one thing,” said Bertha, 
clinging with her arms about Drusilla. “ Prom- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 19? 

ise me that you will not take any definite step in 
any direction without telling me. Oh! Drusilla, 
I have prayed for your happiness so much, I 
have watched it come, I have watched it grow. 
... If I see this happiness taken from you, I — 
I believe it will break my heart.’’ 

“Don’t let us talk any more to-night,” said 
Drusilla very gently. 

She disengaged herself from Bertha’s cling- 
ing hands, and she moved away, but Bertha fol- 
lowed her. 

“Tell me,” she said piteously, “only tell me 
that you don’t hate me!” 

And at this Drusilla turned: 

“Hate you! Dear, sweet, precious Beth! 
Hate you! Why, I love you, if possible, more 
than ever I did ! ” 

And they stood for a few instants in a close 
embrace ; then as the door opened they separated. 

“No; don’t light the lamps yet,” said Drusilla 
to the butler, “but bring some more hot cakes. 
Neither Miss Heronworth nor I have had our tea 
yet.” 

As the servant went out of the room the girl 
laughed, a brave pretence of her usual happy 
laugh, as she set light to the spirit lamp under the 
silver urn. 

“And we must have our tea, you know,” she 
said, “ whatever happens.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


Some friends in the neighbourhood dined at 
Crowder Chase that evening. 

Mrs. Lingfield did not make an appearance. 
It was remarked that Miss Heronworth looked 
very tired and ill, but there was evidently nothing 
the matter with Drusilla. She laughed and chat- 
ted at the dining-table in her own sunny fashion, 
and after dinner she volunteered to sing. 

The guests were people who had known her all 
her life, and who were dining to say “ au revoir ” 
and wish her good luck at the same time, for they 
were going on a tour of the world, had practically 
invited themselves to Crowder Chase, where, ow- 
ing to Mr. LingfiekTs recent death, no entertain- 
ments were taking place. 

Drusilla liked these people ; to-night she found 
something especially sweet in their homely 
thought and affection for her. Although the 
conventional expression of regret f or Mrs. Ling- 
field’s indisposition was heard, no one really re- 
gretted her absence: and in her self-elected ban- 
ishment Bertha Heron worth’s aunt suffered 
much vexation. For a thoroughly good dinner 
could not dispossess her mind of the fact that she 
had not exactly triumphed ; that, indeed, she had 
cut a contemptible figure in the eyes of the girl 

198 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 199 

whom she had been so anxious to punish and 
abase. 

She had been so eager to range Drusilla in her 
proper place. There was a long score of an- 
noyances to be wiped off, a long story of jeal- 
ousy and resentment to be settled. But now that 
she had spoken ; now that she had struck her blow, 
Mrs. Lingfield was more than half way inclined 
to regret what she had done. She was just a lit- 
tle afraid of Drusilla, and the thought of Lord 
Carlingford made her nervous. 

Just as she was retiring for the night Mrs. 
Lingfield’s maid brought her two notes, one from 
Bertha and one in Drusilla’s bold handwriting. 

Bertha Heron worth wrote very briefly: 

“ I am very sorry to have to ask you to leave 
here to-morrow, but you have given me no alter- 
native. I think it desirable that you and Drusilla 
should not meet again, at any rate just now. 

“ As I realize that you came here on purpose 
to make us wretched, you will, I am sure, not be 
surprised to know that I consider it better that 
you should not stay.” 

Whilst her anger was still at red-hot heat, Mrs. 
Lingfield tore open Drusilla’s letter: 

The girl had written as follows : 

“ I understood that it is Bertha’s intention to 
ask you to go away. In this I believe she is think- 
ing solely of me, but I have told her that it will 


200 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

be necessary for me to have a little further 
conversation with you, so will you please let me 
know if I shall find you in town two days hence? 
A word by your maid will suffice.” 

Mrs. Lingfield did not, however, send any 
reply to Drusilla’s note. As a matter of fact she 
had not the least desire to have any further con- 
versation with the girl. She allowed her maid to 
make known her intention to leave Crowder 
Chase very early the next day, and there was a 
certain amount of rejoicing in the establishment 
in consequence, for Mrs. Lingfield was one of 
those people who have not the art of ingratiating 
themselves with servants. 

The next morning she was up and dressed at 
an unusually early hour, and she had left the 
house when both Drusilla and Bertha were ap- 
parently in their beds. As a matter of fact, Dru- 
silla, who had scarcely closed her eyes all night, 
had risen at daybreak, and, putting on her out- 
door clothes, had gone for a walk before the serv- 
ants were awake. 

It was a cold, raw morning, but Drusilla 
walked through the drizzling rain almost indiff er- 
ent to the discomfort of the damp and cold. She 
had spent the hours of the night in beating home 
to herself the main facts connected with her 
present position. Unhesitatingly she looked 
ahead and saw her future. As far as it lay in 
any human being’s power she was determined to 
fall in with everything that Bertha might ask 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


201 


save in one particular. Just at the very first, with 
that natural impetuosity which not only belonged 
to her youth but was so peculiarly characteristic 
of a nature and spirit like hers, she had planned 
to cut herself adrift from everything which had 
constituted her early life up to now; but the 
cruelty of such a proceeding outweighed every 
possibility of personal effort. “Besides,” she 
had said to herself hardly, “ I have always been 
told that it is a coward who runs away, and I 
won’t be a coward. Whatever comes I won’t be 
a coward!” 

Lying in the familiar room, surrounded by 
countless evidences of the exquisite love which 
had been lavished on her ever since she could re- 
member, Drusilla felt the tears rolling down her 
cheeks, not for herself or for the desolation of 
her heart, but for Bertha. 

“ I shall hate it,” she said to herself between 
her teeth, “it will be like a knife going into my 
heart to live on here just as I have always lived, 
but I have got to do it. Bertha has given me a 
lifetime of love and thought, now it is my turn! 
It would be so easy to slip away, to make some 
sort of life for myself, but I mustn’t do it! Ber- 
tha comes before everything.” 

She had kept her thoughts chained to this 
point. Beyond the one great duty which she 
would have to fulfil with as little loss of 
time as possible, she absolutely defied the clam- 
our of remembrance; nor did hope for even one 
moment creep into her thoughts to shed illumi- 


203 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

nation on what was so dark and grievous. Where 
another woman might perhaps have seen some 
light ahead, Drusilla saw none. She faced the 
future uncompromisingly. 

Her marriage with Lord Carlingford could 
never take place. And in coming to this deci- 
sion the girl was not actuated by what the man, 
or those belonging to him, might do or say: it 
was her own proud view of the position which 
governed with a determination that would admit 
of no argument. Yet proud and strong as she 
knew herself to be, she shuddered once or twice 
as she pictured to herself the difficulties with 
which she would have to contend. 

Bertha had already shown her that she would 
struggle desperately against a rupture with Car- 
lingford, and the man himself would be a thou- 
sand times more difficult to handle; indeed, in this 
the commencement of the fight Drusilla hardly 
knew what tactics she would use. Once there came 
upon her a passionate rush of bitterness almost 
approaching to resentment as she remembered 
how easily she might have been spared this misery. 
In this moment it seemed to her not only wrong 
but wholly incomprehensible that Bertha and 
Edmund Lingfield should not have recognized 
the duty imposed upon them when Lord Carling- 
ford, or, indeed, any other man, had proposed 
marriage. Naturally, she recognized the sweet- 
ness and the tenderness which lay at the back of 
this reticence, but in this the first bleak moment, 
when the whole world seemed changed to her, the 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


203 


value of this loving, protecting thought was atro- 
phied, its significance was lost, its beauty hidden 
behind the ugly form of deception. 

As she walked through the wet, dreary cold of 
the winter’s morning, she occupied herself en- 
tirely in trying to frame the best method of con- 
vincing Carlingford that in breaking her en- 
gagement she was not acting from petulance, or 
mischief, or coquetry. To tell him the truth was, 
of course, Drusilla’s first instinct, but she realized 
instantly that this would not help her. Perhaps 
there might be one moment of hesitation, but 
there was so much to hold him. Drusilla could 
even hear him sweeping away all the arguments 
which she might bring forward; and then again, 
apart from the mistake of sharing the truth with 
him, came the insistence of loyalty to Bertha. She 
had pledged her word that she would do nothing 
until she had fully discussed the situation with 
her sister. Not for a single instant, however, 
did Drusilla doubt Bertha in this respect. She 
knew full well that though she might struggle 
and plead, Bertha understood only too well that 
whatever else might remain unchanged the en- 
gagement with Carlingford must be broken. 
Though she wearied herself with restless walking 
in the cold, Drusilla was no nearer a solution of a 
most difficult problem when she reached the house 
again than when she had left it. She had at least 
one consolation, Lord Carlingford was not ex- 
pected for another day or two; in the next twelve 
hours, therefore, she must not only have shaped 


204 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


her scheme of action, but she must have taken the 
first plunge towards the final separation between 
herself and the man she loved. 

Miss Heronworth’s maid was in the hall when 
Drusilla returned to the house. 

Catherine looked surprised to see the girl. 

“You haven’t been to the station, miss?” she 
asked. “ Mrs. Lingfield settled on driving to the 
junction.” 

Drusilla looked at the maid. 

“Has she gone away?” she asked in a low 
voice. 

“Yes, Miss Drusilla.” 

“ Did she leave a letter for me, a message? ” 

Catherine answered that she did not think so, 
but she would inquire. 

“ Seemed in a great hurry like to get away, 
miss, and it isn’t much her way to be so early, she 
as is never out of her room till middle day. I 
expect your coat’s damp, Miss Drusilla — won’t 
you be taking it off, and will you sit there whilst 
I fetch you a cup of tea? ” 

“Yes; I’ll sit here,” said Drusilla. 

But she did not sit down, she stood, and as she 
was alone she trembled, for her remembrance 
carried her back to the day when Carlingford, 
putting an end to his suspense, had wrapped his 
arms about her and claimed her. 

“ It wasn’t right,” Drusilla said to herself, “ it 
wasn’t just, or fair, that everything should go so 
smoothly for me! I have been such a feeble, use- 
less thing. Why! I have done nothing all my life 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE £05 

but amuse myself! I ought to have known better, 
that if people want to be happy they have to 
work, to be of some use, to at least earn their 
right to happiness ! ” 

She let Catherine take her coat and hat, and 
she sipped the tea when it came with nothing in 
her manner to mark the suffering she was en- 
during. 

If Catherine did notice a certain subdued look 
on her young mistress’s face, she attributed it to 
the fact that Miss Drusilla must have been to 
early service. Catherine did not approve of this 
untimely wandering in the wet. 

“You’ll be ill, Miss Drusilla, that’s pretty 
sure, and then there’ll be a nice how-do-you-do 
with his lordship,” she said tartly, as she waited 
on the girl. 

Drusilla only smiled and poured herself out 
another cup of tea. She asked for the letters 
solely for the purpose of being alone. When 
Catherine brought her a little budget with her 
lover’s well-known writing resting on the top 
Drusilla made no effort to open her correspond- 
ence. She just held that top letter for an instant 
to her heart, then as she sat down she put it with 
the others on one side. 

“How? . . . How? ...” she was asking 
herself. How, indeed, was she to carry out the 
duty suddenly imposed upon her. The more she 
studied the matter the more difficult it became, 
and yet she longed to have it done. 

As she sat staring into the fire with her 


206 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

aching, miserable eyes, Bertha came down the 
stairs. 

“ Oh! Drusilla, you gave me such a fright,” she 
exclaimed. “ I went into your room half an hour 
ago and I found you gone ! I don’t know what 
I did not think!” 

Indeed, she was trembling, she looked almost 
exhausted, the mental strain of the last few weeks 
was showing its work with Bertha Heronworth 
now. 

“Foolish, foolish Beth!” Drusilla said with a 
touch of her old manner. “ Where did you think 
I should go to? Don’t you know that even if I 
would go away from you I can’t.” 

She kissed the hand she held tenderly as she 
spoke, and then she said half humbly : 

“I am so sorry, dearest, that I should have 
frightened you, but I couldn’t sleep. You know 
my old trick of rushing out of the house on the 
first provocation. I thought I could think things 
out all by myself in the garden.” Then she gave 
a laugh, a little tired laugh. “ Catherine imag- 
ined I had gone to the station to see Aunt Edith 
off. She was in a great hurry to get away, wasn’t 
she?” 

“ I don’t want to talk about her, I don’t want 
to think about her,” Bertha Heronworth said 
passionately. 

“I wonder what she will do next,” Drusilla 
said after a little pause; then her face changed. 
“ Perhaps,” she said, “ perhaps she’ll try and see 
Jim. Oh! — oh! that would be hard, Beth!” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 207 

Bertha Her on worth held the two small trem- 
bling hands. 

“No,” she answered. “Aunt Edith has done 
her worst. She is a coward. She is frightened 
even now, so frightened that she has run away ! ” 

As she felt Drusilla shiver Bertha went on 
quickly. 

“ I wish you had not gone out. Will you come 
to my room, darling? You know you always 
used to like to come to my room when you were 
not very well. I remember when you were quite 
a little child it used to be a great joy with you to 
sleep on that big couch in mother’s room.” 

“ Yes,” said Drusilla, “ there are so many mem- 
ories, so many sweet and tender things to hold us 
together.” 

The gentleness of her voice, the suggestion of 
submission in her manner, was almost too much 
for the other woman. In the long sleepless night 
which had just passed Bertha had tried to pre- 
pare herself for some impetuous, some passionate 
outburst from Drusilla. This mood of acqui- 
escence was both pitiful and strange. They went 
upstairs together, and Drusilla tucked herself up 
on the old, big, soft-cushioned couch and lay 
down just as she had lain when she had been a 
little child. 

“Open your letters,” she said, “don’t bother 
about me. I believe I shall go to sleep, I am so 
tired.” 

So Bertha Heronworth sat down at her writ- 
ing-table and started her customary morning’s 


208 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


task of opening and reading all the letters which 
had been sent up to her. After a little while, 
however, Drusilla got up again. 

“ My boots are muddy,” she said. “ If Cather- 
ine sees them on this clean chintz she will make a 
tremendous fuss.” 

The truth being that she could rest nowhere, 
she was obliged to move about, and Bertha 
watched her with the greatest anxiety. 

When Catherine and one of the maids brought 
up the breakfast tray Drusilla was rambling aim- 
lessly round the large old-fashioned room. 

“You’d ought to have got them boots off 
awhile ago. Miss Drusilla,” was Catherine’s re- 
mark. “ Sit down and I’ll take them off now. 
Fetch me Miss Drusilla’s brown house-shoes,” 
she ordered the other maid. 

But Drusilla changed the order. 

“ Bring me my red shoes ; I feel so cold,” she 
said by way of explanation. “ I want to look at 
something warm.” 

“The best thing for you,” said Catherine 
promptly, “would be to get into bed — between 
the blankets, too. As if this was a morning to be 
out of the house before daybreak!” 

“ Catherine,” said Drusilla, “ you are a bully.” 

“ I may be more than that,” said Catherine 
imperturbably, “but I have got my wits about 
me.” 

“I wish somebody would take my wits for a 
little while,” Drusilla answered to this. 

To please Bertha she made a pretence of eat- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


209 


mg some breakfast, but the dainty dishes were 
left practically untouched by both of them. 

“ You see,” said Drusilla, breaking the silence, 
“ the thing must be done quickly and it must be 
done surely — there must be no half measures — 
but the way to do this, Beth, there’s the rub!” 

“You will tell Jim the truth? I have been 
thinking it all out, Drusilla, and I feel, I have 
convinced myself, that when you have told Jim 
what you know it will make no difference.” 

“ I am convinced of that, too,” said Drusilla, 
“ but that doesn’t help me, that makes things very 
much harder, because, don’t you see, dearest, it 
is not merely a question of Jim or his feelings; 
there are deeper, more potent matters to be con- 
sidered. Just review the position. Go over all 
the facts and tell me how you sum them up.” 

There was a touch of painful colour on Bertha 
Heron worth’s very pale face. 

“ Drusilla,” she said, “ I see nothing to prevent 
your marriage.” 

“ I was afraid you would say that,” the girl 
answered in a low voice. 

“But,” Bertha said in a strained voice; then 
she paused for a moment and sat with her hand 
over her brow, and then she began speaking: 
“This old story really doesn’t affect you — you 
are the same as you were when Jim fell in love 
with you — how could it change you? Do you 
feel any different? ” 

. “ I daresay it is very ridiculous,” said Drusilla, 
“but since last night, Beth, I do feel different: 


210 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


I feel as if I had lost something. I shall never 
be sure of myself in the future. All sorts of 
things are coming back to me now that I never 
understood at the time they happened. I can 
remember when I was ever such a little thing 
how fond people were of remarking on the ex- 
traordinary difference between us. You were 
always so quiet, so methodical; you had such 
pretty, sedate ways, you were so wise; even as a 
little girl, Beth, you showed all these attributes 
which have been so marked in you as a woman; 
and I — I was just the opposite, a petulant, self- 
ish, emotional little piece of goods. A butterfly ! 
even in my cradle. Don’t you remember how 
furious dear old Charlotte Waters always used to 
be with me? She never could pin me down to 
my lessons. Your mind was constantly absorbing 
something of interest, something of value, whilst 
I would be staring out at the sunshine and the 
flowers, longing to be free, always thinking of 
excitement. You can’t deny this, Beth, nor can 
you deny the fact that it was your father’s nature 
speaking in you just as it was my father’s spirit 
which found expression in me! ” 

“ I think you are wrong,” said Bertha Heron- 
worth very quietly. “ You were always a happy 
child, and you became a happy girl, but as you 
have grown up your likeness to your mother has 
become more and more pronounced. Just as your 
face resembles hers, so in heart, in mind, you are 
her child. I have Uncle Edmund as my authority 
for this. He knew your mother so well, it was 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


211 


your likeness to her which endeared you to him. 
If you put such thoughts as these in your mind 
I don’t like to look towards the future.” 

Drusilla sighed. 

“I daresay I am seeing everything in a dis- 
torted fashion just now, but it is not so very un- 
natural, is it? knowing as I do know that there 
is tainted blood in my veins, not to doubt myself.” 

“ I think that is an outrageous thing to say, a 
terrible, a shameful thought to harbour.” Miss 
Heronworth spoke coldly, even hardly; “ and it is 
very feeble,” she went on, “ the excuse of a weak 
nature. We are what we choose to be. Even 
though circumstances should range themselves 
pitilessly against us, individual instinct can al- 
ways hold its own. With you, everything has 
been done to encourage beauty of thought, sweet- 
ness of heart and mind. Perhaps I have been 
foolish in trying to keep you a child so long, but 
if you lack practical knowledge of life you have 
had so much else! You shock me terribly, Dru- 
silla, when you speak of doubting yourself.” 

“ I don’t think we need trouble about me,” said 
Drusilla wearily. 

Bertha got up and stood a moment by the fire- 
place. 

“You are resolved to break off your mar- 
riage?” And as Drusilla just bent her head she 
asked: “Why? In this, remember,” said Miss 
Heronworth, “you must think not entirely of 
yourself, of that humiliation to your pride which 
Aunt Edith dealt out to you yesterday; you feel 


212 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

as I do, that when Jim knows all I ought to have 
told him it will make no difference to him. What 
does signify is that Jim really cares for you, that 
you are really necessary to him. Do you think 
you have the right to embitter this man’s exist- 
ence simply because you don’t happen to be my 
real sister? ” 

Drusilla got up and caught her breath very 
quickly. 

“ I don’t know how you can ask me that, Beth! 
Quite apart from the fact that Jim laid such 
stress on my being a Heronworth, there lies the 
ugly truth that my father, whether from force 
of circumstances, or from sheer wickedness, was 
proved to be dishonourable, dishonest, a traitor, 
almost a criminal. The fact that Jim would care 
enough about me to marry me, knowing all this, 
is just one reason why I, who love him, will never 
consent to be his wife.” 

Bertha Heronworth laughed suddenly. 

“ So much for hereditary instinct ! You defeat 
your own argument, Drusilla.” 

And Drusilla put her hands to her brow and 
cried out piteously, passionately: 

“Oh! Don’t let us talk any more, my head 
feels as if it would burst, and I — I am suff ocat- 
ing.” Then she sat down and the tears came. 

Bertha went across to her and put that hot, 
aching head against her breast. 

“ Let us go out,” she said. “ Take me in the 
motor, you shall drive me, you wanted to drive 
me two days ago — now I am ready to go. It is 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 213 

not bed and rest you want, it is movement. I 
know exactly how you feel.” 

It was so pitiful to see Drusilla’s face swollen 
and tear-stained. 

The girl rested on that loving heart for a little 
while and then she got up. 

“ Catherine will make an awful fuss,” she said 
weakly, “ but still I should like to go ! But you’ll 
wrap up, won’t you, Beth? It will be awfully 
cold! And you are not frightened? Perhaps 
we had better let Wilkins drive.” 

“No,” said Bertha, “I want you to drive. 
Wilkins can go with us, of course, because we 
may lose our way, but it will do you good to 
drive.” 

Catherine heard of her mistress’s intention with 
uplifted eyebrows and waited on Miss Heron- 
worth in grim silence. When she carried out the 
various rugs and wraps with a grudging aspect 
her irritation found vent in words. 

“ Nice sort of day this,” she said to the chauf- 
feur, “to go a-prancing about the country. I’ll 
thank you, Mr. Wilkins, to see as Miss Drusilla 
doesn’t put Miss Heronworth into no ditch.” 

“ There are worse places than ditches,” said 
Wilkins with knowledge. 

Carefully shrouded in her motor veil Drusilla’s 
tear-stained face was hidden from view. 

“Shall we make our way to the sea?” she 
asked, and as Bertha eagerly assented she laughed 
faintly. “You dear, dear soul,” she said, “I 
wonder if you know how good you are? Now 


214 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


you’ll tell me, Beth, won’t you, if you feel we 
are going too quickly, or if you are cold, or any- 
thing of the sort?” 

Bertha Heronworth answered bravely: 

“ Oh I I mean to thoroughly enjoy myself. It 
isn’t a lovely day, but still we are together, and 
we can always be happy while we are together, 
Drusilla.” 

And Drusilla with quivering lips said : 

“Yes, there will always be happiness while we 
are together.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Drusilla's desire that he should not leave 
them, lightly spoken as it had been, had yet car- 
ried a suggestion of seriousness which disturbed 
Keston. He was, of course, fully conscious that 
in remaining he could have done very little, if 
anything, to prevent Mrs. Lingfield from being 
disagreeable. Nevertheless it would have been a 
delight to have felt that even in this shadowy way 
he could have rendered Drusilla some little serv- 
ice, and though, like herself, he could not really 
understand why the elder woman should be so 
antagonistic, he realized that she possessed means 
to sensibly fret and annoy the girl. He intended 
to get back as soon as possible, but when he 
reached town, Brian Keston found his mother 
not only extremely unwell, but in a highly nerv- 
ous mood. His stepfather received him on his 
arrival, and Sir William Draycott frankly con- 
fessed that he was at a loss to know how to deal 
with his wife in her present condition. 

“She is thoroughly upsetting herself about 
something which I cannot get from her, and I 
have sent for you, because I think it more than 
probable she may tell you what is on her mind. 
If it is money . . . well . . said Sir William, 
with a gallant effort, “I must face the diffi- 

215 


216 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


culty and deal with it to the best of my ability. 
Of course, you know, my dear Brian, your 
mother is a hopeless muddler where money is con- 
cerned. What she does with it, God alone knows ! 
But she would drain a bank, and, unfortunately, 
my resources are limited.” 

Keston did not answer immediately, and then 
he said: 

“ She told me what was worrying her when I 
was here the other day. She has got it into her 
mind that there is a possibility of getting back 
some of the money my father lost through that 
man Spanrith. Of course, you heard all about 
it?” 

“ Yes, of course; but God bless my soul! ” said 
Sir William, “ why should Rosalie wake up now 
and think she is going to recover what was lost 
then? Why, it is an affair of years ago.” 

“ Nearly twenty years ago! ” said Brian. 

“ How on earth has this bee got into her bon- 
net?” 

“ Some chattering old woman,” said Brian 
hardly. “We must put a stop to it.” 

Lady Draycott, however, proved anything but 
easy to manage. She was hysterical, angry, re- 
proachful. 

“You never cared for me,” she said to Brian. 
“You have never loved me. If you had loved 
me, you never would have treated me as you have 
done all these years ! ” 

To all the arguments produced she had one 
reply: 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


217 


“ I don’t see why other people should have my 
money.” 

After a little while Brian lost his patience. 

“My dear mother, be reasonable; we have yet 
to learn,” he said, “that there was money when 
Spanrith died. If it is true that all he had was a 
little he borrowed from my father — I say little, 
because what was a fortune to us was really noth- 
ing to him — it will be very difficult to trace what 
became of anything he left. Certainly his own 
family never touched a penny — they repudiated 
him completely.” 

“I don’t care whether they had a penny or 
not,” Lady Draycott said. “We can’t know what 
he had unless we try and find out.” 

And then Brian took a firm stand. 

“My dear mother,” he said, “if you go into 
this matter in any way whatever, you will never 
see me again. I flatly refuse to sanction any 
such action on your part. Perhaps there is not 
money enough for you — well, you are not the 
only one who is not satisfied. Sir William does 
everything he can to meet your wishes, and it is 
your positive duty to work in with him. I am 
willing to help you as far as I possibly can, but 
I will not permit you to rake up this old busi- 
ness.” 

Lady Draycott wept long and loudly, but she 
could not move her son. And Brian did not leave 
her till he had exacted from her a solemn assur- 
ance that she would fall in with his wishes. 
Greatly against his inclination, he remained with 


218 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


her throughout the next day; when she pressed 
him to stay a second night, however, he refused. 

“ I must get back to my work. I can’t leave 
Crowder Chase till I have finished what I am do- 
ing, and the more I delay, the longer I shall be 
about it, naturally.” 

“It is very sad that you cannot be with me 
when I am so ill,” said Lady Draycott dole- 
fully. 

But Brian, as he stooped over to kiss her, 
smiled. 

“You are going to be well enough to go down 
to the South of France. Sir William is making 
arrangements to take you there as soon as 
possible.” 

Though he travelled by express the return 
journey seemed long and tedious to Keston. 
There was nothing to meet him when he arrived, 
but this was his own fault, as he had given no 
notice by. what train he would return. To walk 
through the woods and fields in the dusk was pleas- 
ant enough, however, and as he turned in 
through the familiar gates a sigh of actual con- 
tent escaped his lips. 

He made his way to the back of the house, 
where his bag was taken from him, and then he 
went into the hall. Here he found Drusilla. She 
was wearing a cap and a coat, and at the first 
glance at her face Keston frowned. It was as 
though she had aged : the extraordinary radiance 
of her youth and beauty had gone utterly from 
her. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


219 


She heard his step, but thought it was the but- 
ler, and asked: 

“Are those two telegrams gone, Durning?” 

Then as the young man came into the firelight, 
she gave a little gasp, and she stretched out her 
hand with such spontaneous and sincere welcome, 
that he took it in both of his and held it in a firm 
grip. 

“ Oh! Mr. Keston, I am so glad, so glad to see 
you!” Drusilla exclaimed; then in the same 
breath: “Beth is ill, and it is all my fault! 
Yes, it is all my fault! I took her out in 
the motor this morning. We drove miles and 
miles in the mist and cold, and when we 
stopped to get some lunch Beth could hardly 
move. They didn’t want her to come home,” 
Drusilla went on, “I mean the people in the 
hotel thought it wasn’t fit for her to come away; 
but she pleaded so much to be brought back here, 
that we wrapped her up, and I sat and held her in 
my arms all the way. Wilkins drove like steam, 
but she got worse, and now ” 

“ Oh ! you mustn’t distress yourself in this 
way,” said Keston. And now he patted her hand 
comfortingly. “It is only a chill!” 

“No; it is more than that,” said Drusilla. 
“You know, Beth has been making herself ill all 
this time, and to-day she did the worst thing that 
she possibly could have done. It’s so awful! She 
is lying up there and she doesn’t know me. They 
carried her up. I thought she had fainted, but 
it is something much worse than a fainting fit.” 


220 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

And once again Drusilla said: “Oh! I am so 
glad to see you. I felt nearly mad.” 

“ Of course, Dr. Redgood is with her,” Keston 
said. 

“Oh! yes, of course. I had the sense to tele- 
graph to him before we started to come back 
here, and he was waiting for us when we arrived. 
He is upstairs now. A nurse is coming in at 
once, and Dr. Redgood wants another opinion. 
I have just telegraphed to the specialist he has 
asked for.” 

“But Miss Heronworth is very strong,” said 
Brian Keston eagerly. “ She has often told me 
that, though she looks so delicate, she has great 
stamina.” 

“Yes, I know she says that, and perhaps it is 
true; but she has had an awful lot of business 
dragging and worrying her these last few weeks. 
You’ve seen, haven’t you, that she was bothered? 
Why, I told you a long time ago, before Christ- 
mas, that I wasn’t happy about her; so she has 
just been working up for an illness. And I, 
like the beastly selfish ass I am, never realized 
that she might break down suddenly ! ” 

“ I think you will break down too,” said Kes- 
ton quietly, “ if you don’t take care of yourself. 
I wonder if you have had any food; you look to 
me shockingly tired. You’ll serve no good pur- 
pose by being ill, will you ? ” 

“ I don’t care if I am ill,” said Drusilla, with 
bitter recklessness. “ I don’t care if I die! ” 

And the man said: 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


221 


“Hush! You are very wicked. You speak 
like a spoilt child, and you are a spoilt child ; but 
you have to grow out of childhood, you know, 
and this is the beginning. Now is your moment 
to show that you have some depth in you, that you 
are more than a pretty figure-head. If your 
sister is ill, then you must take her place; you 
must be strong and put personal feelings in the 
background.” 

Drusilla rubbed away the tears in her eyes and 
looked at him. He spoke quite sternly and with 
a kind of authority. She said nothing for a 
moment, and then she said : 

“I’ll try; but you don’t know everything.” 

The doctor from the neighbouring village 
came downstairs at that moment. 

“Ask Durning for lights?” Drusilla said to 
Brian Keston. 

She waited for the doctor to speak, but she had 
no need of words. She read his verdict on his 
face. 

“It is impossible to say at this early stage 
what may develop,” the medical man said. “I 
find your sister in an unusually prostrate condi- 
tion. Her maid tells me that she has been sleep- 
ing very badly, that her appetitie has been very 
poor.” 

“ She has been fretting,” Drusilla said, “ about 
me. You see, she thought she was going to lose 
me.” 

“ I shall come back in a couple of hours,” Dr. 
Redgood said. “I may then find her better. 


222 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

You must take care of yourself, Miss Drusilla. 
I cannot have you falling ill too, you know, or 
what would Lord Carlingford say? ” 

When he had driven off, Keston came hack. 

By the light of the lamps he could see the 
pathetic whiteness of her face and the quivering 
of her lips. 

“ If you did a wise thing,” he said, “ you’d go 
to bed.” 

“ I never did a wise thing, I’m not going to be- 
gin now,” said Drusilla. And then said: “Bed! 
If you could only know how I dread the night! 
If you want to help me, you won’t put me away 
by myself — you’ll talk to me. I’m just going 
up now to sit in her room for a little while, but 
I’ll come down again.” 

Keston went to his own apartments. He felt 
the material comfort which surrounded him but 
vaguely. The news that Bertha Heronworth 
was ill gave him a pang. He had grown so fond of 
her and her gentle ways. Their interests were so 
similar, their enthusiasm so mutually sincere. It 
was enormously due to the influence she exercised 
upon him that Keston had progressed to so large 
an extent out of his almost churlish shyness and 
self-obliteration. She stood to him at this time 
in the light of a loved — a real friend. 

On his way home he had practically resolved to 
speak once again to Bertha Heronworth about 
his mother. Strange as the circumstance might 
seem, he yet had convinced himself that Mrs. 
Lingfield’s curious confidence to, and revived 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 223 

sympathy with, his mother was a matter which was 
of more than passing interest to Miss Heron- 
worth. Just where this matter might touch Ber- 
tha intimately, of course, he was quite unable to 
guess; but of one point he had at least assured 
himself, and that was that he would have her 
sympathy in his determination to prevent his 
mother from stirring up a most unprofitable and 
unpleasant discussion. There would, however, 
be no possibility now of his broaching this subject, 
for in the few words which he had exchanged 
with the doctor, it was only too evident that Dru- 
silla had not exaggerated the importance of her 
sister’s illness. 

He changed his clothes for evening ones, but 
he did not go back to the hall. He went instead 
to the library. The old calm, f amiliar atmosphere 
had the sweetness of a welcome in it. It touched 
him to see that the big room had not been dusted, 
and to realize that this forgetfulness on Bertha’s 
part had come through physical inability. It was 
so typical of the characters of the two women 
that Drusilla, who had undertaken to dust, should 
have tired immediately, and that Bertha should 
have done it so steadily and lovingly. He did 
not attempt to work, but he sat down in his accus- 
tomed place, and Bob stretched himself as usual 
in front of the fire. In a little while, however, 
the dog sat up and pricked his ears, and Keston 
got up too, as the door opened to admit Drusilla. 

She had changed her frock, but she still had 
the same weary look. 


224* THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

“You are not going to stay here, are you?” 
she asked. “If so, may I stay with you? Cath- 
erine won’t let me go back to Beth; the nurse is 
there, and they say she is going to sleep. I told 
Catherine if I came away now I mean to be 
there in the night; but she is awfully angry with 
me. You see, she was so set against our going 
out this morning. Catherine simply adores Beth. 
I believe she is fond of me in a way, too, but 
there is only one person she really loves, and that 
person is Beth. And I understand just how she 
feels,” Drusilla said in a quick, low voice; “ such 
a lot of things have come to me in the last twenty- 
four hours — things that hurt. I told you, didn’t 
I,” she went on, “that I didn’t put much faith 
in Aunt Edith’s sweetness? Well, last night 
proved how right I was ! ” 

She did not tell him any more, but as she sat 
down she got up again. 

“ After all,” she said, “ I don’t think we’ll stay 
here. It is such a long way off, and the wind 
is making such a horribly mournful sound in the 
trees; and then if I am in the hall I can run up 
to Beth’s room at a minute’s notice.” 

Keston followed here into the hall. 

“ You said I ought to be brave, and I am going 
to try, but I can’t promise you I won’t be nerv- 
ous,” the girl said. “I feel all on wires. I feel 
just as I should imagine people feel when they 
are adrift on the sea, and they don’t quite know 
where they are going to, or what is going to 
happen.” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 225 

“ That seems to me rather a ridiculous idea,” 
said Keston. “ One of your great faults is that 
you will exaggerate. You see, I am going back 
to the task of educating you.” 

“ I tried to be good,” said Drusilla, and her lips 
quivered. “I read what you wrote and I tried 
to do ‘ noble things,’ but Aunt Edith spoilt them. 
Oh! You don’t know how much she spoilt!” 

Dr. Redgood came back just then and Drusilla 
went upstairs with him. 

A telegram had arrived announcing that the 
physician desired would be down at Crowder 
Chase very early the next morning. 

Keston waited for them to come down, and it 
seemed to him an interminable time before the 
doctor reappeared. 

.“I cannot tell you anything for certain,” Dr. 
Redgood said, in answer to the young man’s 
eager inquiries; “but I regret to say that every- 
thing points to pneumonia. What madness took 
Miss Heronworth out to-day, and in a mo- 
tor?” 

“ Don’t say that to her sister,” Brian said very 
quickly. “ She is torturing herself quite enough 
as it is.” 

Dr. Redgood continued to speak about Miss 
Heronworth. 

“ She has something on her mind. I cannot 
make out what it is. Just now she began to try 
to speak. Her maid seems to think that she wants 
her lawyer. His name is Lethbridge, I fancy, 
isn’t it?” 


226 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“ Yes,” said Keston. “ I know Mr. Lethbridge 
acts for her. Shall we send for him? ” 

“It would be as well — can you do that?” 

“Of course, but perhaps we had better let Miss 
Drusilla write.” 

“Yes,” said Dr. Redgood. “Occupy her, 
she’ll do no good by fretting herself in this 
fashion. She talks of sitting up all night, but, of 
course, that is out of the question.” 

“ If I may venture to say so,” Keston observed, 
“ I shouldn’t make it out of the question. The 
more she does, the better it is for her; and if she 
only thinks she is of a little bit of use, that is very 
helpful, you know. I went through something 
like this when my father was ill. That is a long 
time ago, but I have never forgotten it. The 
feeling that one has to suffer and do nothing is 
very terrible.” 

They were still talking when Drusilla came 
slowly down the stairs, and Dr. Redgood imme- 
diately asked her if she would communicate with 
her sister’s lawyer. 

“Do you think she ought to talk business?” 
the girl asked. 

“I think,” said Dr. Redgood, “that we must 
study her every wish. Your sister, remember, is 
not an average woman where business is con- 
cerned. Possibly there may be^ many matters 
weighing on her mind which an interview with 
her lawyer will relieve. Now do eat some dinner. 
If you are going to help to nurse Miss Heron- 
worth, you must have all your strength.” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 227 

When they were alone again, Brian Keston 
said: 

“You ought to have somebody down here 
with you. Could not Miss Lingfield come? ” 

But Drusilla said “No” quite shortly. “I 
don’t want any one, not even Connie,” she said. 
“ Thank God Aunt Edith went away this morn- 
ing. I don’t know how I should have lived if 
she had been here just now!” In the same 
breath she said: “Beth is not sleeping; she wants 
to talk. Dr. Redgood won’t let her, and the 
nurse seems to think she gets a little excited when 
I am in the room.” 

“Well, that is natural; of course she doesn’t 
want you to fret.” 

“What a nice, comforting person you are!” 
said Drusilla; “ and you don’t look a bit like it — 
not one tiny little bit! ” 

They sat down to dinner very late and the 
door was left open, so that Drusilla could hear if 
any one called her. 

Once when Keston was urging her to eat, wait- 
ing on her himself, and showing her the greatest 
consideration, Drusilla said suddenly: 

“I want to ask you some questions. You 
needn’t answer them if you don’t want to.” 

He looked at her for an instant and then 
said: 

“ What sort of questions? ” 

Drusilla flushed a hot, painful flush. 

“It is about old days, about your father — 
and — and the man who treated him so badly. 


££8 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

How old were you when your father lost his 
money?” 

“ About twelve,” Keston answered. 

“And — and did he die immediately?” 

The young man shook his head. 

“ No; I almost wish he had. It was the strug- 
gle, the fight for daily life, the awful trouble of 
those last four years which are so horrible to me 
to remember.” 

“Don’t you think,” Drusilla asked in a very 
low voice, “ haven’t you sometimes felt that that 
man who robbed you must have been dreadfully 
sorry?” 

Keston laughed. 

“I am afraid I never gave him credit for so 
much good feeling. I was only a boy, it is true, 
but it has been my fate to see a great deal. I 
don’t think Spanrith cared one jot for anybody 
except himself. He was supposed to have cared 
for his wife, but when the end came, he had no 
hesitation in leaving her to do the best she could 
for herself.” 

Drusilla sipped a little water. 

“ And you knew his wife? ” 

“ Yes,” said Brian Keston; “ I knew her. She 
was awfully good to me when I was a little fel- 
low. I could have got very fond of her, only I 
went to school, and after that I never had a 
chance. She was a great friend of my father’s. 
I wasn’t able then, of course, to appreciate why 
it was that my father cared so much for Mrs. 
Spanrith, but I have learnt little things about her 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 229 

since from time to time, and more especially just 
lately, and I understand that she was just the 
kind of friend he needed so much in his life. It 
must have been a terrible grief to him when she 
died.” 

He paused, for Drusilla was looking at him, 
and the expression in her eyes puzzled and even 
pained him. 

“ I like to hear you speak like that,” she said 
in a low voice. “ I daresay you will think it aw- 
fully stupid of me, but you gave me a shock the 
other day — I mean that day when you spoke to 
me the first time about your father ; and you said 
you had grown tired of cursing that other man.” 

Keston coloured. 

“ Yes, I ought not to have said such a thing to 
you,” he said; “but, you see, the fact is, that in 
every man there is a bit of the brute, and certain 
things can bring that brute uppermost in me at 
very quick notice.” 

“ I don’t believe,” said Drusilla, speaking very 
unsteadily, “that we have any of us the right to 
curse another person. You say that there is a 
bit of the brute in every man, and one thing is 
very sure, we are none of us, men or women, 
capable of living our lives without doing wrong 
in some shape or form.” 

“Naturally,” said Keston; “but there are de- 
grees of wrong-doing. Premeditated harm is 
always, must always be, worse than that which 
comes spontaneously — the fruit of circumstances, 
as it were.” 


230 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Drusilla was sitting with her elbow on the table 
and her hand supporting her head and shading 
her eyes. She remained silent for some little 
while after he had been speaking. 

“When Beth gets better,” she said suddenly, 
“ I am going to change all my life.” She lifted 
her head and her hand dropped with a start. 
“What is that?” she asked. “It sounds like 
some one arriving. Has Dr. Redgood come 
back?” 

Keston got up and at the same moment they 
saw Durning, the butler, pass along the hall. 
The bell must have rung evidently, for they 
heard him open the entrance door,, and after that 
the sound of two voices speaking in a subdued 
way. Then whilst they paused, Durning ad- 
vanced to the dining-room door, followed by 
some one else. As the butler announced “ Lord 
Carlingford” Drusilla turned sharply and Kes- 
ton heard her say, “ Oh! ” in a pitiful voice. She 
was standing as Carlingford hurried into the 
room. 

“ Beth is ill,” she stammered. “ I — I told you 
so in my telegram.” 

Her voice, her manner, hurt Brian Keston in 
an extraordinary way; he passed quickly out of 
the room, exchanging a stiff bow with the other 
man as he went. 

As Durning closed the door, Drusilla had one 
flashing sensation of agonizing fear. She felt 
as if she were trapped ! All the day she had post- 
poned the letter she would have written, and this 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


231 


because she had not known what to say, how to 
take the first step towards that separation which 
was so irrevocable. 

When the telegram had been sent to the spe- 
cialist at Dr. Redgood’s desire, Drusilla had sent 
a brief message to Carlingford, informing him 
of her sister’s sudden illness. She hoped he would 
accept this as explanatory of her silence, and was 
absolutely unprepared for his coming in this 
way, absolutely unequal to meet the demands of 
the situation which had been brought thus pre- 
cipitately to a crisis. 

Lord Carlingford stood where he had pulled 
up short on entering. His face had flamed into 
colour. 

He could not speak because rage, a jealous 
rage, a veritable mad rage, gripped him. 

The very moment he had received Drusilla’s 
telegram he had cancelled all his engagements 
and had rushed away to be with her. The absence 
of her morning letter had been a great disap- 
pointment, and he had been waiting for news 
from her all the day. Indeed, if he had been able 
to execute certain business he would have been 
down earlier. As it was, the information that 
Bertha was ill, the certainty that Drusilla would 
be unhappy, had urged him to go to her without 
any loss of time. He had had a tiresome journey 
waiting about in cold stations and travelling by 
slow trains. Assuredly he had not been prepared 
to find Drusilla as he had found her, or to be 
received so strangely! For there was no mistake 


232 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


about the girl’s confusion at sight of him, nor in 
the hesitation of her manner. 

“ I never imagined that you would come,” 
Drusilla said, not as yet conscious of the quick 
transition which had taken place in his feelings 
and expression. “It was good of you,” she 
added, and Carlingford flashed an answer to 
this : 

“ Don’t be a hypocrite ; you didn’t want me to 
come. I don’t believe Beth is ill, or if she is, you 
have a funny way of showing anxiety about 
her!” 

Drusilla sat down suddenly and looked at 
him. 

“ What do you mean? ” she asked, and then she 
saw for the first time the almost ugly look in his 
eyes, and she drew back from him. 

“I don’t think it is very difficult for you to 
understand what I mean,” said Carlingford not 
very distinctly. 

Drusilla began to tremble. Just for an instant 
some passionate words of protest quivered on her 
lips, and then like lightning there came to her the 
revelation that in this anger of his — in this mis- 
take which was at once so intolerable, so ridicu- 
lous, yet perhaps so natural — there lay the me- 
dium for which she had been vainly seeking 
throughout this long day. 

“You are very absurd,” she said haughtily. 
“You choose to come rushing down here without 
warning, and just because you — you see me 
speaking to another person, you imagine I don’t 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


233 


care whether Beth is ill or well. This kind of 
thing is not merely intolerable, it is impertinent.” 

The man’s anger did not leave him, but it 
passed into another form. 

“ It is not a question for argument,” he said 
coldly; “it is a question of simple fact. You 
know as well as I do, that you have no right, as 
my promised wife, to be sitting here alone at this 
hour with that fellow. Surely, if your sister is 
ill, as I am given to understand, your proper 
place is with her.” 

Drusilla shrugged her shoulders. 

“ I am no good in a sick room. Beth has a 
nurse and her own maid. If you choose to think 
ridiculous things, I suppose I can’t help it.” 

She got up again and moved across to the fire- 
place, and though she spoke so coldly, so quietly, 
she was really shaking from head to foot. 
Against herself there was a break in her voice as 
she said: “Beth is ill, very ill, and I am horribly 
anxious about her.” 

Carlingford laughed shortly and snapped his 
fingers. 

“ So much for your feelings! ” he said. “ You 
care for no living creature except yourself.” 

Drusilla was nearly crying out, but she turned 
on him at this. 

“ I never tried to deceive you. Didn’t I tell 
you in the very beginning that you were making 
a mistake? I never wanted you to come. I . . . 
I tried to send you away. I can’t begin to change 
my nature just because you imagine silly things 


234 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

about me. I never supposed myself to be the 
kind of woman you want me to be. I am just 
ordinary flesh and blood, and you want a saint.” 

“ What does all this mean? ” asked Carlingford 
very, very quietly. 

She shrugged her shoulders again and paused 
just for a moment; then she said unsteadily: 

“ Well, I don’t want to say horrid things to you 
since you have come down here to be kind — but — 
I think you know what I mean. In any case, 
Beth’s illness changes everything. I couldn’t 
leave her now; she comes before all the world.” 

Carlingford moved to the fireplace. 

“ You are speaking in a temper,” he said. “ I 
suppose you have some right to be angry, for, 
upon my soul, I don’t know what I did say just 
now or what I was going to do! It maddened 
me to see you sitting there just as if you two 

were ” He broke off. “If I’ve gone too 

far I am sorry; you hear me say it — I am sorry.” 

But Drusilla had drawn back from him. 

“ And I am sorry, too ; quarrels are so ugly,” 
she said; “ but this must be the end.” 

“The end!” repeated the man hoarsely. “My 
God! Do you think it is so easy to end things? ” 

“No,” said Drusilla. “It is — it is jolly diffi- 
cult, but it has got to be done, all the same. Oh ! 
don’t you see,” she said, and now she was crying 
openly. “ I’m born — to make these kind of mis- 
takes! I can’t help myself! We should be per- 
fectly wretched together. Ever since that day in 
the Park when you told me what you expected 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


235 


of me I have been getting frightened — and now 
— now I feel I can’t go on any longer! And 
Beth wants me. Beth has been so good to me all 
my life — oh! so good! I must be good to her. 
She has really broken down now because she has 
been fretting about me, and though I am not 
worth it, I know it would have been an awful 
thing for her if I had gone away and left her. 
You must try and forgive me. I — I was going 
to write you all this to-morrow, but now that you 
are here you may just as well hear it.” 

She turned her face away from him. She could 
not bear to look at him. He had grown so white. 
For a long spell they stood in silence. Then Dru- 
silla moved away from the fireplace and seated 
herself once again at the table. Her composure 
was amazing, and to the man perhaps the most 
horrible element in this moment of indescribable 
suffering. He looked at her steadily. She was 
sitting drawing imaginary pictures with a fork 
on the table-cloth. 

“ You — you are not in earnest? ” he questioned 
when he spoke. 

And at his voice Drusilla turned quickly. 

“Yes, I am,” she answered. “You know I 
never did really want to be engaged ; marriage is 
such a serious, tiresome thing. I don’t want re- 
sponsibilities and worries, I want to laugh and be 
happy, and I want to be free. Please let me be 
free. I’ll be ever such a good friend to you if 
you will only let me live my life in my own 
way.” 


236 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


He came close to her and stood breathing hard 
for a moment. Then he took the fork from her 
hand and flung it with a clatter on the floor. With 
a violence of which he was hardly conscious, he 
closed his hands about her wrists and lifted her 
from the chair. When she faced him he looked 
into her eyes. 

“ You have told me again and again that you 
loved me. Only the last time we were together 
you said you did not know how you had ever lived 
without me ... . and now you talk of ending 
everything.” 

Drusilla gave a shrug of her shoulders. 

“I daresay I have said all sorts of stupid 
things in my time. You can’t expect me to re- 
member every word I have spoken, and I — I am 
afraid I can’t undertake to have any nice feelings 
for you if you hurt me as you are hurting me 
now.” 

He released her instantly, and with a nervous 
gesture brushed his brow. He watched her as 
she sat down and began chafing her reddened 
wrists. 

“ Are you speaking the truth? ” he asked, after 
a silence which seemed eternal to the girl. 

Again she shrugged her shoulders. 

“ I tell truth or lies just as they serve my pur- 
pose.” 

Carlingford looked at her almost in bewilder- 
ment; he was built on such straightforward lines. 
The complexity, the subtlety of Drusilla’s pres- 
ent mood was outside his grasp, and she, sitting 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


237 


there, keeping* back her tears with supremest diffi- 
culty, realized this. She asked him to leave her. 

“ Please don’t think I am not grateful to you 
for coming. ... I ... I want you to believe 
I am deeply grateful for everything. . . . I . . . 
wouldn’t have made any change. ... I would 
have tried to do my best, although I know our 
marriage would have been a ghastly failure ; but, 
you see, Beth’s illness alters everything, and — 
and if you really care for me, you will do what 
I ask. I want you to go and I want you to real- 
ize I ... I shan’t change my mind. . . .” 

He pressed his hand to his eyes a moment, then 
he stood and looked at her; after a pause which 
seemed an eternity to the girl, he said : 

“ All right.” 

Crossing the room, he picked up the fork and 
replaced it on the table gently. 

“ Of course, you know I didn’t mean to hurt 
you ; it was a brutal thing to do. ... I am sorry. 
. . . Good-bye.” 

He turned, and without pausing, opened the 
door and passed out. 

Drusilla started to her feet; he had left the 
door ajar, and just for an instant she nearly 
yielded to the yearning to follow him; but the im- 
pulse was conquered, and going back to her chair, 
she sat down again, staring at the table in a dazed 
kind of way. Lord Carlingford had evidently 
kept the fly which had brought him f rom the sta- 
tion, for now from the distance she heard the 
sound of wheels going away from the house. She 


238 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


had said that he must be sent away, and he was 
gone — gone with the most miserable remem- 
brance of her written on his heart ; gone with the 
ugliest, the cruellest impression left to wither 
his loving faith and pride in her. Before he had 
come, she had been so strong, and in the hours of 
the long, long day just drawing to an end she had 
almost gloried in the proud sacrifice which she 
had resolved upon carrying through; but now 
that it was completed, now that she had cut him 
out of her life irrevocably, there was no pride 
remaining, only a burning, intolerable agony; 
only a yearning which choked her and brought a 
sensation of madness. 

Durning, who had heard the sound of the clos- 
ing outer door, hurried into the hall, and seeing 
no one, looked into the dining-room; then he ut- 
tered an exclamation, for Lord Carlingford had 
gone, and Miss Drusilla was sitting limply in a 
chair by the table, with her head hanging forward 
on her breast. 

As he hurried towards her he picked up a table- 
napkin and a bottle of water, and at the same 
moment Brian Keston, who had also heard the 
sounds of a departure, came across the hall, and 
the butler called out to him. Durning was busy 
pouring water on the table-napkin, and putting 
the damp cloth on Drusilla’s brow as the young 
man responded to his call. 

“ If you will ring that bell, sir, we’ll ask for one 
of the maids,” said Durning. “She’s fair done, 
that’s what it is; she’s worked herself into a fever 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


239 


about Miss Heronworth. All this is so new to 
Miss Drusilla ; she’s such a child, she didn’t ought 
to have trouble yet awhile.” 

“ I’ll carry her upstairs,” said Keston. 

But as he was putting his arms about her, her 
eyes opened. The hair was lying damp on her 
forehead, some water was trickling down her 
cheeks to her white throat. She looked at him 
vaguely at first, and then consciousness came to 
her and she took herself out of his hold. 

“Please don’t bother,” she said. “I am not 
ill, I am only tired, ever so tired ; but I am going 
upstairs now. Good-night.” 

She got on to her feet with an effort and 
paused before starting; then she gave him her 
hand, and she gave her hand to the servant also. 

“ Don’t look so frightened, Durning,” she said. 
“Iam not dead yet, although you have done your 
best to drown me.” 

And so, with a laugh that was such a pathetic 
mockery of the old laughter, she went slowly out 
of the room, and the two men watched her anx- 
iously as she mounted the stairs till she had passed 
out of their sight. 


CHAPTER XIX 


Before escorting his wife abroad, Sir William 
Draycott wrote to his stepson, asking him if he 
could come to London for an hour or so, as there 
were one or two matters which he would like to 
discuss with him. 

“ Send me a line to ‘ The Rag,’ ” he wrote. “ I 
go there every day to lunch.” 

That he should receive no immediate reply to 
this communication did not trouble Sir William, 
who knew Brian's ways very well by this time, 
and about three days later the younger man tele- 
graphed, stating that he would call at the club 
that morning. 

By this time the news of Bertha Heronworth’s 
death had been circulated in all the papers, to- 
gether with biographical accounts of the Heron- 
worth family and the great shipping industry, 
from which the dead woman had drawn her 
wealth. 

About Miss Heronworth herself there was 
very little to say, for her life had been passed in 
such a retired, uneventful fashion; but the ma- 
jority of the papers made mention of her sister’s 
engagement to Viscount Carlingford, eldest son 
of the Earl of Southborne, and several added the 
information that this sudden death would inev- 
itably postpone the date of the marriage. 

240 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


241 


Lady Draycott made a point of reading all 
the obituary notices. She dwelt with resentful 
bitterness on the amazing value of the Heron- 
worth possessions. 

“Doesn’t it seem horribly unfair that some 
people should have so much and others so little? 
I don’t wonder people get socialistic ideas when 
they read about a case like this! And then it 
was so wasted! Oh, I know she was very chari- 
table and all that, but she was such a frumpy 
little creature, Will! — the sort of woman who 
would have been quite happy with five hundred 
a year. Brian raved about her, of course, but, 
then, Brian has such queer ideas! I wish to 
goodness she had left him some of her money; 
although,” Lady Draycott added, with a shrug 
of her shoulders, “he would be quite capable of 
turning his back on a fortune which he had not 
earned himself.” The next moment she said: 
“And now, I suppose, the other girl will come 
into everything; a lucky thing for Carlingford! 
I expect this is why he is marrying her.” 

Sir William Draycott, to whom these charac- 
teristic remarks were made, was gallant enough 
to declare that in his opinion Lord Carlingford 
had found his luck already. 

“ A prettier or a more charming girl I haven’t 
met for many a day!” he asserted. 

But, naturally, he did not expect to find his 
wife of his way of thinking, and, as a matter of 
fact, Lady Draycott found very many faults in 
Drusilla. 


242 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“I suppose she is rather good-looking,” she 
allowed grudgingly; “but you have no idea what 
airs she gave herself that evening we met at 
Flora Torchester’s ! And from what her aunt, 
Mrs. Lingfield, was telling me, I am sure she is 
horribly vain and selfish. This poor thing who 
has just died was kind, though I found her in- 
tensely dull, if not actually stupid.” Then Lady 
Draycott flashed to another subject. “ Isn’t it 
like Brian to have told us nothing? Really, he 
is so odd — so secretive. And now I suppose he 
will be dismissed or something of that sort.” 

Very long ago Sir William had learnt wisdom 
where his wife was concerned; he never by any 
chance discussed Brian, not even when, as had 
been the case, the young man had pursued his 
way, neither asking for help or advice, and 
profiting nothing by the very real interest 
which his stepfather had taken in him in the be- 
ginning. 

Brian had already commenced to work for his 
living when his mother became Lady Draycott. 
He had remained at school a year and a half 
after his father’s death, for Richard Keston had 
left express wishes to this effect, and sufficient 
money to pay his boy’s schooling, and after that 
young Keston had taken his future into his own 
hands. It was through the kindly offices of a 
London bookseller (a man with whom his father 
had had a long friendship) that he got his chance 
in that little out-of-the-way shop in the North. 
Lady Draycott had made tremendous protest to 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


243 


Brian’s independent action at first, and Sir Wil- 
liam had joined issue with his wife for a little 
while ; but he had quickly realized that he had to 
deal with an unusual character, and half in 
pique, half in admiration, he had let Brian fol- 
low his own road. And then gradually, as a 
natural course of events, Sir William had ceased 
to think about Brian or to make any plans for 
him. They had, in fact, seen very little of one 
another until just recently, and then the firm 
stand which the young man had taken in con- 
nection with the matter which Mrs. Lingfield 
had so mischievously introduced, and which had 
so excited and upset Lady Draycott, had 
brought home to his stepfather very forcibly 
and agreeably the fact that Brian Keston was 
essentially a man to be relied on. 

He had good reason, moreover, to be grateful 
to his stepson, for without Brian’s drastic treat- 
ment of his mother’s hysterical intentions there 
would assuredly have been a vast amount of 
trouble ahead for her husband. 

In asking the young man, therefore, to see 
him before he went abroad, Sir William was ac- 
tuated by a feeling of the most sincere regard in 
a desire to be more closely associated in the fu- 
ture with his wife’s son. 

Sir William gave Brian a hearty greeting. 

“You have left Crowder Chase, I suppose?” 
he queried. And Keston answered: 

“ I came to town two days ago.” 

“You had better come and put up with us; it 


244 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

would please your mother,” Sir William sug- 
gested. 

But Brian shook his head. 

“ I am sorry, sir, but I have a certain amount 
of writing to do. I would rather be in rooms.” 

And Sir William did not press the matter. 
He led the way to luncheon, and for awhile the 
two men talked on various matters, chiefly con- 
cerning Lady Draycott. It was somewhat of a 
relief to Sir William to be able to discuss his 
wife with one who understood her character so 
well as Brian did, and was, therefore, quick to 
take in all the difficulties of the situation. 

They only just touched on the subject of that 
old business which had so excited and troubled 
her. 

“I can’t tell you how grateful I was to you 
for putting your foot down so firmly,” Sir Wil- 
liam said. “ When Rosalie gets an idea into her 
head, all the arguments in the world won’t move 
it; but in this case she could do nothing without 
you. I’ll tell you what,” Sir William said 
warmly, “I’ve given instructions that that tire- 
some woman should not be allowed to see your 
mother.” And then Sir William asked: “Is 
there any chance of your going back to Crow- 
der Chase, Brian?” 

Keston shook his head. 

“No, sir.” ^ 

“ A sad business, very,” said Sir William. “She 
was young to die. What was it, heart trouble?” 

“ Pneumonia — the illness came at a time when 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


245 


the vitality was extraordinarily low, and it seems 
that there was no possibility of a resistance.” 

“Ah!” said Sir William. “I daresay if we 
could know the truth, there must have been in- 
fluenza to start with. Beastly thing, influenza! 
Does far more mischief than people imagine! 
Still, she should have made a fight — she was quite 
young, I hear?” 

“ Only twenty-eight,” said Brian. 

“Ah, well!” said Sir William; “money isn’t 
everything! Poor soul! Her millions couldn’t 
keep life in her.” 

Keston made no answer. He was still under 
the spell of that awful grief which encompassed 
Drusilla about. The change from the grey, chill 
silence of those days of suspense at Crowder 
Chase, to this scene of material and matter-of- 
fact life, produced a sensation of unreality. He 
felt dazed; now and then, indeed, he lost the 
thread of Sir William’s remarks; the severance 
from the actual surroundings of Crowder Chase 
had not diminished in the least their hold on his 
imagination. 

His stepfather was concerned because he had 
so little interest in his lunch. 

“Not much sense in starving yourself, my 
boy,” he said bluntly; “and this curry is uncom- 
monly good.” 

Brian with an effort roused himself. 

“ I had a late breakfast,” he said, and then he 
added quickly: “In your letter you said some- 
thing about making a proposition to me.” 


246 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Sir William nodded his head. 

“Yes, you know Larnham? He’s the Liberal 
member for the north division of Westshire. 
Well, he was asking me the other day if I knew 
of any young fellow whom I could recommend 
for secretarial and other work; and remembering 
our chat when you were up the other day, I said I 
did know some one. It would mean probably be- 
ing a great deal in the country,” said Sir Wil- 
liam, “for Larnham has only recently bought a 
place up north, in Cumberland, I believe. He 
was telling me about it and about a library that is 
in it; and it was when I heard that the books 
wanted a lot of overhauling that you flashed into 
my mind. I told him that you had a berth at the 
present moment, but I wasn’t sure how long you 
would be at Crowder Chase. Now I suppose, 
however, you will be free to take up anything else 
right away, won’t you? ” 

“ It is very good of you to have thought of me, 
sir,” Brian said; and, indeed, he was genuinely 
grateful. 

Sir William grunted. 

“ Well, it is a case of one for you and two for 
Larnham. He is an old chum and I am glad to 
serve him. He wants some one a little bit out of 
the common, a man with his head on his shoulders. 
Larnham’s great trouble is lack of memory. 
Why,” said Sir William, with a laugh, “ I have 
known him to send telegrams to himself many a 
time, reminding him of appointments to be kept 
and work done. And when he forgot to do 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


247 


this there was the deuce to pay! That is where 
you would come in useful. The work would be 
all in your line. I think you would pull together. 
Will you go and see him? ” 

Keston agreed at once, and they talked over 
the possible engagement from various points 
of view. When they separated, his stepfather 
slapped the younger man encouragingly on the 
shoulder. 

“ I think I had better not tell your mother that 
I have seen you, or that you are in town, or she 
would insist on rooting you out. But look here, 
Brian, get a tonic or something to set you up ; you 
are not looking the thing, you know, not at all 
the thing.” 

Keston’s pale face warmed with a little colour 
for an instant. 

“ Miss Heronworth’s death was a great shock,” 
he answered. 

He said nothing more than that, and almost 
immediately the two men separated. 

Keston walked away from this interview, com- 
forted in a slight degree by the hope that there 
might be work for him, and this although that 
eager energy, that desire for strenuous effort, 
which had been so characteristic of him from his 
boyhood, seemed dulled for the moment. It was 
natural that he should feel physically tired, for 
he had not been to bed for several nights; but his 
bodily weariness was as nothing compared to that 
prostration of spirit which possessed him. 

When the illness had taken a grave turn, Kes- 


248 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


ton’s first instinct had been to withdraw from 
Crowder Chase; in fact, he had made prepara- 
tions to go, but Connie Lingfield had so besought 
him to remain, and his own inclination to do this 
had been so strong, that he had given way; and 
yet there was nothing that he could do, no way in 
which he could help, except, indeed, to try to put 
some comfort, some consoling encouragement, 
into Connie’s heart. 

Various relations had been summoned and Mr. 
Lethbridge had been at Crowder Chase from the 
very first ; but there had been no possibility of dis- 
cussing any business with Miss Heron worth, for 
after the first twelve hours she had drifted into a 
kind of unconsciousness from which she never 
roused. Mrs. Lingfield was conspicuous by her 
absence, a fact which no one deplored. 

Connie gave Keston constant news of Drusilla. 

“ She is so strong,” the girl said, amazement 
colouring her tired voice for an instant, “ and she 
sits there hour after hour ready to do anything at 
a moment’s notice. She hasn’t cried, she is so 
quiet ; it doesn’t seem as if she could be Drusilla ! ” 

“ I know she can be strong,” Keston had an- 
swered. 

But he could not discuss her, not even with 
Connie. He shut himself in the library ; to work, 
however, was impossible. The knowledge that 
Bertha Heronworth’s gentle spirit was passing 
slowly, but surely, away made those very tasks 
which had been so delightful seem useless and un- 
profitable. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 249 

Durning, the butler, grew into the habit of 
finding his way to the library more than once in 
those long, hopeless days. 

Keston could not seal the man’s lips, and from 
this source he learnt that Lord Carlingford was 
back in the neighbourhood staying somewhere 
near; that he came each day, twice and three 
times, and that all the members of his family had 
sent to make inquiries. 

“But Miss Drusilla, she don’t even know as 
his lordship comes — he wishes particular as she 
should not be fetched down or worried. I don’t 
believe she’d come down, not even for his lord- 
ship. She won’t move from that room,” Durn- 
ing said. “ One would say she was in a dream, 
if it wasn’t that she looks so awake. All the rest 
of them are getting tired, but Miss Drusilla 
never sleeps. This’ll be mighty bad for her, I 
am afraid, sir,” Durning said on one occasion. 
“You see they was so much to one another. It 
don’t seem natural like that they should be sepa- 
rated.” 

When the end came Keston did not wait to see 
Connie Lingfield; he packed his small belongings 
and went away. But he left a message with 
Durning. 

“ That address will find me,” he said, “ and tell 
Miss Lingfield, if she wants me, I will come; that 
I shall be grateful to her if she will let me know 
if there is the smallest thing I can do.” 

Then he had made his way to the humble lodg- 
ings which had sheltered him on his former visit 


250 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


to London; and for two long days there had been 
no word or sign. He hardly knew what he ex- 
pected, but somehow he never doubted that Miss 
Lingfield would write; indeed, as he left his step- 
father now, he walked back to his lodgings al- 
most eagerly. Perhaps in his absence some com- 
munication might have come from Crowder 
Chase. 

Sure enough there was a letter awaiting him, 
but it was not in Connie Lingfield’s handwriting ; 
it came from Mr. Lethbridge, announcing that 
the funeral would take place three days hence, 
and that Miss Heronworth would be buried in a 
certain country churchyard in Northumberland, 
where her father and her grandfather and her 
great-grandfather had been buried before her. 

“ There will be a memorial service in London,” 
Mr. Lethbridge wrote, and he gave the name of 
the church; “perhaps this will be more conven- 
ient to you. If you should, however, decide to 
go north, we can travel together. Let me 
know.” 

Without hesitation Brian Keston went out to 
send a telegram, stating that he wished to attend 
the actual funeral. And then he went back to 
try and numb his recollection in the writing which 
of late had become a source of pleasure to him, 
and perhaps of scarcely defined ambition. 

Now and again he took himself to task for this 
sense of devastating sorrow. 

“After all,” he said, “they are strangers to 
me; I wasn’t even a friend.” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


251 


But this argument had no power to prevail. 
Stranger as he called himself, and by measure- 
ment of time friendship might hardly have had 
space to grow, yet the whole of his manhood’s 
life seemed to have been lived in these last few 
weeks. So closely was he knit to the remem- 
brance of that life that he had hardly dared 
let himself vision a future in which there should 
be not one single thread left to keep him in 
touch with what was so dear to him. 

It would have been difficult for the man to 
have said for whom he mourned the most, for that 
gentle, sympathetic womanly creature who had 
ceased to exist, or for the girl who stood alone. 

Vaguely he found himself wondering whether 
the fact that she was enormously wealthy would 
have any significance to Drusilla. Would it 
taint the freshness, the unsophistication of her 
nature? Would it change her? Of course, 
it was not possible that she could pass through 
such an ordeal of grief and come out unscarred. 
Some of her old attributes she must lose, for in- 
stance, that resilience of spirit, that joyous an- 
ticipation of happiness (which in itself is a form 
of happiness), that laughter of life which made 
even the passing of Drusilla through the ordi- 
nary routine of existence a matter of radiant mo- 
ment to others — these things could never be 
wholly hers again! And yet it would be so 
strange to picture her grown subdued and reason- 
able, perhaps even conventional. He could not 
imagine her without a jest or a smile. 


252 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

As he sat musing with his eyes closed, a letter 
was brought to him. It was the letter he had so 
eagerly expected. Miss Lingfield was in town; 
she wrote from her father’s old house, which had 
been closed since his death: 

“I am here only a few hours and am going 
back to-morrow,” her letter said; “there were 
various things to bring me to town. I am writ- 
ing to you now by Drusilla’s wish. She desires 
me to ask you if you will come and see me. 
There is a certain matter which she considers that 
you ought to know and she prefers that I shall 
tell it to you. Please name any hour which is 
most convenient to yourself in the morning. I 
want to go back by the quick train in the after- 
noon.” 

The letter had apparently been finished, and 
then, acting on an impulse, Miss Lingfield had 
evidently opened it again and scribbled a post- 
script: 

“Perhaps you could come this evening? I 
will not ask you to dine, because the house is all 
disorganized, but I think I should prefer to see 
you to-night. Please send back word if I may 
expect you.” 


CHAPTER XX 


One of the sitting-rooms had been hurriedly 
prepared for Miss Lingfield, and Keston found 
her engaged with a man who had been her fath- 
er’s secretary when he arrived. 

They gripped hands in silence, and when they 
were alone Connie Lingfield sat for several mo- 
ments before she could command her voice suffi- 
ciently to speak ; then she said : 

“You went away so quickly and I wanted 
you.” 

Keston frowned and bit his lip. 

“ Had I even imagined that you needed me, I 
would not have gone. It was the sense of doing 
nothing — of being of no use — which drove me 
away.” 

Connie Lingfield sat with her elbows on the 
table and her face buried in her hands; she was 
crying. 

“ Oh ! Mr. Keston,” she said brokenly, “ there 
is so much to tell — so much that hurts.” 

He looked at her from under his contracted 
brows and said : 

“ Is it necessary that it must be told? ” 

And she answered him quickly: 

“Yes. To you it must be told, so Drusilla 
commands. To others, I don’t quite know as 
yet. That will be settled later.” 

253 


254 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

Keston sat down. 

“ How is she? ” he asked. 

“ She amazes me; there is something in her now 
which was never in poor Bertha, clever woman as 
she was; but then, in all Bertha’s life there never 
came such matter to be dealt with as that which 
lies in front of Drusilla!” Then Connie dried 
her eyes and pulled together her courage. “ Mr. 
Keston,” she said, “ it is Drusilla’s wish that you 
should be told something which she has only just 
learnt. She and Bertha were not sisters. When 
she was quite a little child she was adopted by 
Bertha’s mother and father. She was given 
their name and was brought up as their own 
daughter. Her mother was a cousin of Mrs. 
Heronworth’s. Drusilla’s real name is Span- 
rith; her father was George Spanrith.” 

She was looking at the young man steadily as 
she spoke, and she saw his face turn grey, and 
then she saw him cover his face with his hands. 

“ Drusilla said that you would understand why 
she wanted me to tell you all this; and there is 
more,” Connie added with agitation. “ Bertha’s 
death has precipitated an enormous difficulty. 
She died, having made no will, and Drusilla can 
inherit nothing. Of course, as Mr. Lethbridge 
has explained to me, dear Bertha was arranging 
to settle a large amount of money on Drusilla; 
the papers necessary to this marriage settlement 
are lying at his office roughly drafted out now. 
She did not expect to die yet — she was so young; 
and I suppose she never thought about her will, 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 255 

or perhaps,” Connie added, “she thought about 
it so much that she hesitated to have it drawn up 
simply because she would have been compelled 
to disclose this secret which only my father knew. 
Whatever may have been the reason, the fact re- 
mains that she neglected to provide for Drusilla, 
who is left without a penny to call her own! ” 

Keston sat listening, but scarcely hearing. It 
seemed to him that the tumult of enervating 
emotions which had been let loose in his heart was 
little less than torture; more than this, there 
came to him a horrible suggestion that he had 
been the conscious instrument of a destined over- 
throw of the joyous and yet serene significance 
of Drusilla’s life. It was as though he had seen 
her youth slain, her happiness poisoned! There 
was a cruelty in this knowledge which struck him 
to the heart. 

He sat so long without speaking that Con- 
nie Lingfield looked at him in a half-frightened 
way. 

“ I hope — I hope I have not done wrong, Mr. 
Keston,” she faltered, and her voice made him 
start; “but Drusilla insisted that I should tell 
you. This is the only wish she has expressed.” 

“It is horrible!” he said hoarsely. “I don’t 
know whether you are right or wrong in telling 
me this. I suppose you are right, and yet ” 

Connie flung out her hands with a gesture of 
despair. 

“Why should Bertha have died?” she asked 
brokenly. “ She was so young to die.” 


256 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Keston got up and moved into the shadows of 
the room. 

When he came back his voice was calm, his 
manner quiet. 

“What are her plans ?” he asked. 

“ I don’t know. She will leave Crowder 
Chase, of course. My stepmother has written to 
say that she wishes Drusilla to remain as long as 
she cares to do so; but Drusilla will never go 
back there after the funeral.” 

Keston looked at her very quickly. 

“ Does — does Mrs. Lingfield know every- 
thing ?” 

Connie just bent her head. 

“Yes. It seems she knew the truth a little 
while ago; in any case, under the present condi- 
tion of affairs, she would have had to be told, 
since as next-of-kin she inherits all that Bertha 
has left.” 

“But you will take care of her,” the words 
broke involuntarily from Brian Keston’s lips, 
and Connie flushed as she answered him: 

“Yes! I only pray that Drusilla will con- 
sent to share with me what I have — that we may 
be together. I believe it would hurt her less to be 
cared for by me than by the others. But I dare 
not hope for too much. She has promised me, 
however, that she will come here with me for a 
little while. That is one of the reasons why I 
came up, because I had started negotiations for 
getting rid of the house; now, of course, I shall 
change my plans.” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


257 


There was another pause, and then Keston 
said: 

“And the marriage?” 

“Drusilla has broken her engagement,” Miss 
Lingfield answered. 

“And he has accepted this?” 

“I am afraid he has been given no choice.” 

“No man need be dismissed,” Keston answered 
just a little contemptuously. 

Miss Lingfield did not reply immediately; then 
she said slowly: 

“ I don’t think we have the right to judge Lord 
Carlingford. I have seen him several times 
lately; from what he has told me, I am afraid 
that Drusilla has not given him these facts which 
I have just given you.” 

Keston frowned. 

In a flash he had grasped the situation. 

“Well, we can leave him for the moment,” he 
said. 

He walked to and fro a little while, and then 
he paused. 

“You will realize,” he said to Connie, “that 
what you have told me permits me to move ac- 
tively in anything which concerns her. I believe 
that in a certain sense I have a little influence 
with your — your cousin. Tell me in which way 
you wish me to use that influence, and I will 
bring it to bear upon her. But we must go 
gently — very gently.” 

Miss Lingfield thanked him gratefully. 

“As I told you just now,” she said, “I don’t 


258 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


know what her plans are, but I am prepared for 
a very determined attempt at independence, and 
it is here that you may be able to help me. I 
will let you know as soon as we are settled in 
here. I shall be then better informed.” 

Connie rose and stretched out her hands. 

“Please say that you forgive me,” she said. 
“ I can’t pretend to myself that I did not hurt 
you, but I hope you know that I would not have 
done this of my own free will, nor,” she added, 
“would Drusilla have desired it.” 

Keston held her hand and pressed it almost 
affectionately. 

“You must tell her,” he said, and he did not 
speak very steadily, “that I am grateful to her 
for her thought. At first I only felt the cruelty, 
because remembrance brought back so much that 
I wanted to forget. Now I see that it would 
have been a thousand times worse for me to have 
been told this story about her in some other way. 
Above all,” he added, “ let her feel if you possibly 
can, that I am waiting to be of help to her in any 
way she chooses to use me.” 

Keston walked slowly homeward, finding his 
road almost mechanically, so acute was the stress 
of his emotional thought. He had been, in truth, 
horribly shocked. It was natural to one of his 
temperament to feel a sense of something ap- 
proaching to contempt for the deception which 
had been practised; indeed, it seemed hard to as- 
sociate such a deception with a woman like Ber- 
tha Heronworth ; but, in truth, he was not think- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


259 


ing of Bertha, nor of his father, nor of the 
strange sequence of events which had brought 
him so closely and in such a tragic fashion into 
Drusilla’s life; he was thinking only of her. He 
had such a host of memories to draw upon, but 
his mind went back in determined fashion to that 
grey, cold morning when they had walked away 
from the cottage hospital together, that morning 
which had been the first real moment of ac- 
quaintanceship, the beginning of that compre- 
hension of the girl’s nature which was destined to 
grow into the most intimate and precious study. 
He winced as he remembered that petulant 
speech of hers. 

“You must not think,” she had said to him, 
“that I want to come into contact with things 
that hurt — I don’t. I really hate suffering. I 
am afraid I hate sorrow. I could not live in 
shadow; but I have a certain curious sense of 
duty; I feel I must do certain things just be- 
cause I hate doing them.” 

To what lengths would that curious sense of 
duty carry her now? How would she bear to 
live in the shadow which had fallen across her 
life? 

He bit his lip when he recalled the fact that 
she had already demonstrated of what stuff 
she was made. She had broken the engagement 
with Carlingford. That there had been a quar- 
rel had been only too evident to him that first 
night of Bertha’s illness; but that she would have 
had the strength to put the man she loved out of 


260 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

her life and put him out without permitting him 
to know for what reason she had done this, ar- 
gued that she would not be facile to handle. 

In a dim sort of way Brian Keston could 
hazard a guess at the resolution which formed the 
background to the chaos of thought produced 
by sorrow. The mere conviction that she stood 
alone, that there was no one who had the right to 
dictate, was in itself an incentive to the develop- 
ment of impulse. 

He had spoken with a certain amount of confi- 
dence when he had said just a little while before 
that he felt that he possessed a certain influence 
upon her; but this confidence waned slowly. It 
gave him no sense of satisfaction to realize that 
her first thought had been to tell him the truth, 
for he saw in this merely the confirmation of her 
resolve to do that which was hateful simply be- 
cause it was a duty. 

Little by little, as he walked, and passed 
thought after thought before the critical eyes of 
his mind, he began to understand why Bertha 
Heronworth had stood like a sentinel and 
guarded the real story of Drusilla’s birth ; and as 
his heart went out with a rush of sympathy to the 
dead woman, there came to him almost myster- 
iously the enlightening understanding of that 
restlessness, that agonizing desire for strength, 
which had beset Bertha in the first hours of her 
illness. 

He dared to feel that if it had been possible to 
her she would have turned to him; she would have 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 261 

asked his help, his guidance. Was it still impos- 
sible to give her that help ? 

Just for an instant the young man’s heart 
beat so wildly that he found it difficult to 
breathe. 

The belief born so swiftly remained to grow. 

It had been vouchsafed to him to see and to 
grasp in all its fulness the love which Bertha had 
lavished on Drusilla. It seemed to him (and he 
said this to himself without the smallest sugges- 
tion of vanity) that Bertha had learnt to rely on 
him; that she had striven to win his sympathies; 
that she had shared with him feelings that she 
had shared with no one else. The pathos of her 
death was enhanced a hundredfold now. How 
many times Mr. Lethbridge had said to him in 
those weary days of waiting that he would give 
everything he possessed in the world to have 
been able to help Miss Heronworth to just one 
hour of strength and consciousness. 

The lawyer’s meaning was clear enough now; 
he, too, must have felt, though in less dominant 
fashion, the struggle of the failing mind to set 
things right, to safeguard the future. 

There was bitter irony in the realization that 
Bertha Heronworth’s years of tender guardian- 
ship should have led the girl she had cherished 
as her sister to such a painful position. 

Into those strange causes which had prevented 
a mind at once so practical and shrewd from at 
least protecting Drusilla in a material sense, it 
was, of course, impossible to enter. Keston did 


262 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


not seek for causes; he only clung to his loyal 
sympathy. Bertha was dead, yet Bertha’s in- 
tentions, her hopes, her dreams did not die with 
her. Young as she had been, she had gladly ab- 
negated her youth to play the mother to Drusilla. 
Was there no one left amongst those who had 
known her, and who had marvelled at the manner 
of her love, to carry on her task? It could never 
be the same devotion, yet might there not be a 
chance for some one to walk as far as possible in 
her steps, to stand, at least, between Drusilla and 
the real hard significance of life? Was this a 
task too delicate for his hands? 


CHAPTER XXI 


Not a little to her surprise, and a good deal to 
her annoyance Mrs. Lingfield found herself at 
this time in the uncomfortable position of being 
one all alone. She had, not unnaturally perhaps, 
supposed that at least certain members of her 
family would have expressed sympathy for her 
views concerning Drusilla, but nothing of the 
sort happened ; on the contrary, the sympathy all 
flowed in the direction of the girl whom Bertha’s 
untimely death had left unprotected. 

The story of the past, denounced so hotly and 
with such righteous indignation by Mrs. Ling- 
field, sounded altogether different when handled 
reverently, and with the fullest comprehension of 
the reasons which had prompted the growth of 
secrecy. Moreover, there was another phase of 
the matter which Mrs. Lingfield had overlooked, 
and that was that most of those who had gathered 
together to pay the last respects to Bertha Her- 
on worth retained vivid and affectionate remem- 
brance of Helen Spanrith, and the fact that 
Drusilla’s mother and George Heronworth’s 
wife had been closely connected deposed the sug- 
gestion of unwarrantable deception, and gave an 
air of naturalness to Drusilla’s adoption. 

Chagrined and uncomfortable, Mrs. Lingfield 

263 


264 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


retired from any active participation in the af- 
fairs of the moment after the first and most 
significant interview between herself and her re- 
lations and kinsfolk had taken place; she pleaded 
illness, which conveniently excused her from at- 
tending the funeral or the memorial service. Not 
that her indisposition was wholly untrue. The 
disagreeable reflection that she had been instru- 
mental in precipitating a crisis which had termi- 
nated tragically fretted Mrs. Lingfield a good 
deal. There were moments when she would most 
willingly have foregone the rather poor satisfac- 
tion her truth-telling to Drusilla had signified. 
She had wanted to rebuke Bertha and slap the 
other girl — slap her very sharply ; but, of course, 
she had never imagined that her interference 
would have resulted so unhappily. 

Accustomed for many years to make large de- 
mands on the good-natured suff erance of her hus- 
band, and to be able to pour out all her grievances 
to her stepdaughter, her isolation at this time was 
most distressing to her. To have to realize that 
she was blamed, instead of being commended, for 
her upright abhorrence of a deception was hurt- 
ful to her vanity. Though she retired from 
Crowder Chase, she was kept fully informed by 
Mr. Lethbridge of all that was passing. 

Immediately after the funeral there had been a 
serious consultation among the members of the 
Heronworth family with regard to Drusilla’s 
future. 

The girl herself was not present, hut Mr. Leth- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


265 


bridge was deputed to represent her, and was 
careful to impress on those who heard him the 
fact that Drusilla desired to be independent; de- 
sired, further, to revert to her father’s name. At 
the same time, the lawyer was commanded to say 
that Drusilla considered it a sacred and loving 
duty to the one just dead to act as far as she 
possibly could in accordance with the wishes of 
those who now were eager to fill Bertha’s place 
in her life. 

The outcome of this meeting was an emphatic 
resolution on the part of those gathered together 
that Drusilla should be entreated to continue to 
use the name she had borne all her life; further, 
that sufficient money should be immediately put 
together to provide her with what was considered 
a proper income for one who had been reared as 
she had been reared. 

These facts were duly laid before Drusilla by 
Mr. Lethbridge. 

The girl consented at once to continue to call 
herself Heronworth. With regard to the money, 
she begged to be allowed to have a little time. 

“ I want to think things over,” she said to the 
lawyer, “ and I am not quite penniless. I have a 
little money in the bank, and the jewels and other 
things which Uncle Edmund left me. You will 
please let them all know, won’t you, how grateful 
I am to them? Not for what they wish to do for 
me only, but for their loving and beautiful ap- 
preciation of Beth.” 

Though secrecy was not enforced, there was a 


266 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


general feeling of eagerness on the part of all 
concerned to keep the truth about Drusilla as a 
family affair, and to this decree Drusilla gave 
also unquestioning obedience. 

“There is only one outside person who must 
be told,” she had said to Mr. Lethbridge; but she 
had not specified that person, and as a natural 
result the lawyer had imagined it to be Lord Car- 
lingford, whereas, of course, Drusilla had had 
Keston in her thoughts. 

She received more than one invitation from 
these kindly people who were proving their loy- 
alty to Bertha’s memory; but she refused them 
all — at least for the moment. 

She had given her promise to Connie Lingfield 
that they should be together for a time, and this 
promise she intended to keep. 

“ I want to go to London for various reasons,” 
she told Mr. Lethbridge. “Perhaps by and by 
I will go north and stay with Bertha’s dear old 
godmother, Miriam Heronworth, and her sister; 
but now I don’t want to go so far away.” 

And so in due time it came to Mrs. Lingfield’s 
ears that Connie had reopened the house in Lon- 
don and that Drusilla was there with her. She 
ceased all at once to be sick and sorry and became 
instead very angry. While the rage was hot 
within her, she sent for Connie. The cause of her 
grievance was great! When she had retreated 
from Crowder Chase she had requested permis- 
sion from her stepdaughter to stay for a time in 
the London house over which she had reigned 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


267 


for so long as mistress. And Miss Lingfield had 
actually refused this! 

“ My plans are very uncertain,” she had said. 
“I may sell the house, or I may not. I don’t 
know what I shall do, but I think you will be far 
more comfortable in a hotel.” 

Another time this would have been the cue for 
an excellent and lengthy argument, but Mrs. 
Lingfield had been in a hurry, and so she had 
taken herself and her maid to a hotel. 

And now she heard that the house was open, all 
the former servants back at work, and Drusilla 
installed in her place ! 

If Connie Lingfield could have avoided an 
interview with her stepmother at this particular 
moment she would have done so gladly, but Mrs. 
Lingfield’s note was peremptory, and as she 
would be quite capable of swooping down on 
them, if her wishes were not obeyed, Connie sac- 
rificed her feelings and went. She braced herself 
up to bear any amount of nasty little blows, and 
found her stepmother in good fighting trim. 

For quite half an hour Mrs. Lingfield des- 
canted on her own unhappiness — on the shocking 
way in which she was being neglected. She dwelt 
forcibly on Connie’s lack of respect in having 
refused her hospitality, and made frequent refer- 
ence to her husband in a way which would, she 
knew, find its way very surely to the girl’s sore 
heart. Then she came to other matters. 

“I hear,” she said, “that Drusilla is turning 
herself into a martyr, and that she has refused to 


268 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


take the money which has been subscribed for 
her ! I suppose it is because she thinks I am con- 
tributing to it! As a matter of fact, I have not 
been asked for a penny, although under the cir- 
cumstances there is not a shadow of doubt that I 
am the proper person to make provision for 
her.” 

“I have not discussed the matter with her,” 
said Connie, finding some response necessary, “ so 
I don’t know why she has refused to take this 
allowance. But I think I understand what is in 
her mind — she intends to try and earn some 
money for herself.” 

Mrs. Lingfield laughed outright at this. 

“Stuff and nonsense!” she declared. “Earn 
her own living — how? Why, my dear Connie, 
there is not a more useless creature in the whole 
kingdom than Drusilla. I don’t believe she 
knows how to put her own clothes on — I am 
quite sure she couldn’t darn a stocking or sew on 
a button to save her life. Poor Bertha was so 
ridiculous about her!” Then Mrs. Lingfield 
turned her attack once again on her stepdaughter. 
“And if you really care for her, Connie,” she 
said, “ you ought to put these absurd ideas out of 
her head and try to bring her to a sense of her 
real duty! I was given to understand that she 
had promised to prevent this scandal from being 
known; but if she must needs rush out into the 
world in this ridiculous fashion she must natu- 
rally draw attention to the fact that something 
very strange has happened.” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


269 


“ I quite believe/’ said Connie Lingfield coldly, 
“that whatever Drusilla may do she will never, 
never succeed in pleasing you.” 

And Mrs. Lingfield reproved her stepdaugh- 
ter sharply. 

“You have no right to speak like that,” she 
said. “ Of course, you have taken Drusilla’s side, 
and that means that you are against me. I sup- 
pose, my dear child, you have never stopped to 
realize the wrong that was being done to me? 
If Bertha had lived long enough to make a will, 
or if nothing had happened, and the marriage 
with Carlingford had gone through, she would 
have either left or settled a very large sum of 
money upon Drusilla, and in so doing she would 
have acted most dishonestly towards me, her 
father’s sister, and the rightful person to inherit 
her property! That is a view of the position 
which I assume you have not realized?” 

Constance Lingfield got up. 

“ Please don’t say such things about poor Ber- 
tha,” she pleaded. 

But the other woman only laughed. 

“ The fact that Bertha is dead does not exoner- 
ate her in my opinion, for she, and she alone, is 
to be blamed for everything! I am sure I have 
heard your dear father extol her by the hour 
together — he considered Bertha the cleverest 
woman he had ever met, yet just see what a hope- 
less muddle she made of things ! I can’t imagine,” 
said Mrs. Lingfield, “how she could ever have 
supposed that Carlingford would marry Drusilla, 


270 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


when he was told the truth. You see, it hasn’t 
taken him long to break the engagement.” 

This was too much for Connie. She pulled 
down her thick veil and buttoned her gloves with 
trembling fingers. 

“I am sure you needn’t run away so soon,” 
said Mrs. Lingfield fretfully. “ I am so lonely 
in this hotel, and yet I can’t go abroad; there is 
so much to arrange. I want you to give me Mr. 
Keston’s address, Connie ; I am going to ask him 
to advise me how to set about selling the books. 
Bertha paid an infamous price for that Caroby 
Library, a sheer waste of money ; I don’t suppose 
they will realize half she spent.” 

“Bertha’s godmother, Miss Miriam Heron- 
worth, has informed Mr. Lethbridge that she 
wishes to buy all the books,” said Connie. 

And at this piece of information Mrs. Ling- 
field grew very red in the face. 

“Oh! indeed,” she observed; “this is the first 
I have heard of any such arrangement. Miriam 
Heronworth had better wait till she knows 
whether I intend to sell the library!” 

She got up and gave her cheek for her step- 
daughter to kiss. 

“ I shall expect you to come and see me again,” 
she said, “ since I can’t go to you. I am bound to 
tell you, my dear Connie, that I think you have 
made a very foolish arrangement. You have 
practically saddled yourself with the responsi- 
bility of Drusilla, for you know as well as I do 
that this idea of trying to work is bound to end 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 271 

in nothing! And then there is another view of 
the matter: I don’t consider it proper that you 
should be there alone, just you two girls. I am 
quite sure your father would never have approved 
in the very least of what you are doing.” 

Miss Lingfield did not kiss her stepmother. 

“ I wish — ” she said with sudden passion — “ I 
wish, with all my heart and soul, that my father 
were here now ; then perhaps there would be some 
little chance for Drusilla!” 

“ Don’t lose your temper, my dear,” said Mrs. 
Lingfield ; but Connie had turned and had passed 
out of the room. 

She walked home and gradually she got calm 
and cool again. 

“ It is so silly — so very silly to lose one’s temper 
with mother. The fight is never equal ! ” she said, 
and she sighed even as she smiled faintly. 

When she reached her house she found Lord 
Carlingford’s card with a scribbled message on it. 

“I must see you; please make an appoint- 
ment.” 

Miss Lingfield bit her lip. 

“Did you tell Miss Heronworth that Lord 
Carlingford had called?” she asked her parlour- 
maid nervously. 

The servant shook her head. 

“ No, miss. She was lying down when he came. 
She complains of a very bad headache.” Then 
the maid added: “Mr. Keston called just after 
you went out and Miss Heronworth saw him for 
a few moments.” 


m THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

Connie went upstairs to the drawing-room and 
sat down, looking at Carlingford’s card in an 
uneasy manner. 

“What shall I do?” she asked herself. 

She had felt instinctively that the moment 
would come when she would have to see him — not 
in a perfunctory way, as she had done at 
Crowder Chase, but for a definite, a very real, 
purpose. 

She yearned to be able to speak about him to 
Drusilla, yet whenever his name hovered on her 
lips she held it back. 

Drusilla’s reticence concerning Carlingford 
was something Connie Lingfield dared not break, 
and yet what was she to say to him when they 
met? He had told her briefly on one of the occa- 
sions when they had spoken together at Crowder 
Chase, that though he called so often and was 
staying in the neighbourhood, he did not expect 
to see Drusilla. 

“We had a little misunderstanding,” he had 
said, “and — and I am afraid I — I said things 
that hurt her. I can’t bother her now, neither 
can I let matters rest where they are. But I will 
be patient.” 

And now it was evident his patience was com- 
ing to an end ! 

Connie was still sitting pondering how to act, 
when the drawing-room door opened and Drusilla 
came in. 

The first thing one noticed about Drusilla in 
these days was the fact that she had grown so 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


273 


very thin. Her clothes seemed to hang on her. 
Then her pallor struck the eyes, she seemed col- 
ourless ; there was a greyness about her as though 
a tangible shadow rested on her, blotting out the 
life and light in her eyes, her hair, her skin, and 
her lips. 

“ So you are back again,” she said. “ I’ve been 
lying down — at least, I have been trying to lie 
down ; but my head was so stupidly bad I had to 
get up again. It’s better now. Shall we have 
tea?” 

“It is time for your medicine,” said Connie, 
“ and you ate no lunch ; won’t you have an egg 
beaten up? ” 

Drusilla made a face. 

“I am so tired of eggs beaten up,” she said 
plaintively; “they smell like a refreshment bar 
at a station. I’d rather ever so much have tea 
and crumpets.” 

She sighed as she put herself into a chair. 

“Well, and how was Aunt Edith?” she asked. 
“ I suppose she has ordered more beautiful black 
gowns and things? Did she send her love to 
me?” 

Connie rang the bell and ordered tea. 

“ She was just her usual self,” she said, a trifle 
wearily. “ I suppose she will get a little bit worse 
than usual now.” 

“Yes,” said Drusilla, “if that is possible.” 

She smuggled back into the cushions of the 
chair and closed her eyes for an instant, and 
then she opened them again. 


274 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

“What did she say about me? Out with it, 
Connie, my sweetheart? ” 

“We are only in sympathy on one point,” 
Connie answered. “Mother considers that you 
are absolutely unfit to attempt to be inde- 
pendent.” 

Drusilla smiled just for an instant. 

“You think alike on this subject,” she said, 
“ and yet with what a diff erence ! I can make a 
good guess at the sort of things you have had to 
listen to, poor little Connie! ” 

They paused a moment as the maids brought in 
the tea-table and appointments. 

When they were alone again Drusilla said: 

“You know, I am half afraid that for once in 
her life. Aunt Edith is right! Naturally I shall 
never give her the satisfaction of knowing this, 
but, Connie darling, I am a useless — useless 
creature! There ought to be dozens of ways 
open to an able-bodied young woman like me in 
which bread, at least, could be earned; but when 
I put any one of these ways in front of me, hate- 
ful and shameful as the truth is, I am obliged to 
see that I should be no earthly good at any one 
of them.” 

“ I don’t call it shameful,” said Connie 
promptly; “ I call it natural.” 

“ Now that the world is so old, surely some one 
might have invented some new employment for 
genteel fools,” observed Drusilla, a little irri- 
tably. “ As it is, I have to make my choice of be- 
ing th£ inevitable govetness or the equally inevi- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


275 


table companion. I can’t be a parlour-maid, and 
I am such a duff er at acting that the stage is out 
of the question. So it must be a governess. The 
trouble is,” she mused, “ that though I have al- 
ways loved children, I shouldn’t know in the very 
least what to do with them if they were put in 
my charge. And then I am such a dunce! Oh, 
Connie, the things I ought to learn! ” 

Connie sat watching the light flame restlessly 
under the silver kettle. 

“ I wonder if you will be very angry with me 
if I speak out my mind? ” she said, after a pause. 

“ I daresay I shall be,” said Drusilla, with just 
a glint of her old manner ; “ but since I am de- 
pendent on you for my meals, I shall have to 
dissemble.” 

Connie poured the boiling water into the tea- 
pot ; then she said in a low voice : 

“ I think just because you love her, you — you 
must let us try to do what she would have done.” 
Then hurriedly, very hurriedly, Connie said: 
“You know the mere suggestion of turning 
yourself into a governess is such a mistake.” 

“Yes, of course it is,” Drusilla assented; but 
her voice was not quite steady. “ I have just told 
you I know nothing ! I can’t spell, I never could 
tell a noun from an adverb, and I couldn’t add 
up a sum if I tried. I might perhaps be able to 
invent a few conundrums for mental arithmetic, 
such as : ‘If one boy has four herrings and a half, 
why does a speckled hen lay an egg before break- 
fast? ’ but that would be absolutely the extent of 


276 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


my capabilities. Teach — no, it is very certain I 
cannot teach, and I can’t companion either. Is 
there a verb ‘to companion’ or not? I — I used 
to hate verbs, Connie ; I remember in the old days 
Bertha always did my grammar exercises for me. 
What’s the use of grammar, any way?” 

She got up suddenly and bent her head on her 
arm, which she rested on the mantelpiece. 

Connie poured out the tea, and then she turned 
with a sharp gesture : 

“ Oh! dearest,” she said. 

And Drusilla flung out her arms suddenly. 

“ The sun is shining,” she said brokenly. 
“ Spring has come again, and there are flowers 
everywhere, and I should like to kill everything 
that lives and triumphs in living now that Bertha 
is dead! ” 

And Connie took those two tense hands in hers 
and kissed them. 

“I know — I know,” she said; “but, darling, 
you are going to be brave.” 

“I am not going to forget,” said Drusilla, 
calming herself instantly. “ Don’t tell me to for- 
get! That is the awful part of it all, Connie. 
Things go on just the same. It is so cruel when 
she is lying in her grave! This morning when I 
went out I turned into the park; the ground 
seemed full of crocuses. I wanted to trample on 
them all ! Oh ! you see,” she finished, with a laugh 
that was pitiful, “ what an unreasonable, senseless 
creature I am! I am fit for nothing — least of all 
for independence!” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


m 


Connie held her in her arms just as if she were 
a baby. And by degrees Drusilla’s outburst of 
grief died down. She sat in the chair again 
and she drank some tea feverishly. She seemed 
to be glad to speak. 

“You know, Connie dear,” she said in her tired 
voice, “when first I knew about things as they 
are, I — I made all sorts of vows to myself. I 
resolved that no matter how much it might hurt 
me, I would not do anything, except in one in- 
stance, to go against Beth’s wishes; and whilst 
you have been out I have been making a new 
vow to myself. I have realized that there is still 
a chance of doing something to make her happy. 
You know that it hurts me to take this money; 
but, Connie dear, it would hurt her so much more 
to feel that I was out in the world fighting and 
failing, it would seem a reproach to her if I did 
not fall in with what has been arranged. Aunt 
Edith will no doubt sum it up all differently. 
She will call me practical and worldly, and sen- 
sible; but these are a few of the things which I 
must bear. I give up my independence,” she 
said faintly, and she leaned her head against the 
shoulder of the other girl; “and I do it for 
Bertha’s sake. I’ll stay with you a little while 
longer, Connie.” 

“Only a little while?” queried Connie Ling- 
field. “Well, you shall do just as you wish, dar- 
ling. When you are tired of being here you shall 
go. Only try to get strong and to be calm. I 
don’t want you to forget, but I do want you to 


278 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


try and teach yourself to remember without suf- 
fering so much.” 

Something in the sound of the gentle voice 
sent a pang of remorse through Drusilla. 

She took one of Connie’s hands and cradled her 
face on it. 

“How selfish I am! I think only of myself 
and my own feelings and never of you. And you 
have come back here only because of me! You 
have opened this house which must be so sad for 
you, full as it is of memories of your father, just 
simply on my account. Connie dear, bear with 
me a little longer.” 

She sat for a while, leaning on Connie’s hand, 
then she got up and went to the writing-table. 

“Mr. Keston left a note for you. I suppose 
he thought I could not be trusted with a mes- 
sage.” 

“ He is leaving town to-night,” said Connie a 
moment later, as she glanced through the letter. 

Drusilla was standing by the fire, warming 
first one foot and then the other; though the day 
was warm she felt cold. 

“ He seems to like his new work,” she said a 
little languidly; “ but he is made of that kind of 
stuff which beautifies all labour just because it is 
labour. I don’t mind anyone being honest and 
upright, but I object to them when they make 
these virtues appear as something quite original 
and individual.” 

“ Mr. Keston is only sincere,” Connie Lingfield 
said warmly. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 279 

“Exactly, and it is his very sincerity which 
irritates me just a little. But he is awfully kind 
and very reliable. Beth was so fond of him.” 
After a little pause, Drusilla spoke again: “ Talk 
of the long arm of coincidence, Connie — could 
anything have been stranger than the fate which 
brought Mr. Keston to Crowder Chase?” The 
next moment she said: “But I suppose it is not 
so funny really, only just the proper working out 
of destiny. You must not think I don’t like him. 
I believe I am just a little bit afraid of him; he 
is so difficult to humbug.” 

Connie put away the subject of Keston as she 
folded up his note. 

“Darling,” she said. “I must answer Lady 
Deravan’s last letter. Don’t you think in a little 
while, a month hence, it would do you good to go 
and stay with her at Braske?” 

Drusilla moved sharply from the fireplace. 

“No!” she answered shortly; and then again 
she said : “ No ! I don’t want to go anywhere, and 
I don’t want to see anyone but you. Just tell 
Kitty the truth ; then she will understand there is 
no use in asking me. Say it nicely, Connie dear, 
but say it definitely.” 

She had walked across the room and now she 
passed out of it. Perhaps even Connie, notwith- 
standing her wonderful sympathy, could not 
quite understand how the very name of the old 
house where she had been so happy, and where 
love had come to her so unexpectedly, had power 
to wound Drusilla! 


CHAPTER XXII 


Miss Lingfield appointed a meeting with 
Lord Carlingford two days later at the offices of 
Mr. Lethbridge, and she did this without any 
apology or explanation. To bring him to the 
house whilst Drusilla was there seemed to her 
impossible. 

Carlingford was waiting for her when she 
drove to Clement’s Inn to keep the appointment. 
He thanked her so warmly for coming that Con- 
nie felt remorse for the reluctance with which she 
had started out on this journey. 

“I am not going to ask you now to tell me 
anything which may touch on private matters. I 
only want to ask you to answer a few questions,” 
the young man said very gently. 

“ I will answer them if I can,” said Connie. 

She saw a great change in him: the blight 
which had fallen on Drusilla seemed as though it 
had touched him also. They were so far, far 
away from those two radiantly happy figures at 
Crowder Chase! 

Carlingford spoke at first about his father, 
whose illness had been reported in the papers. 

“ My mother has been very anxious, but hap- 
pily the improvement is sustained. This, in con- 
junction with other things, has changed the out- 
look for me very considerably.” With a slight 
280 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


281 


pause Carlingford said tersely: “I’ve given up 
soldiering, and I am going to try and make my- 
self useful. A long time ago I wanted my father 
to let me take over the handling of most of his 
estates, but he refused. Now his illness practi- 
cally demands my active attention to his affairs. 
But I don’t mind,” he added quickly, “ I want to 
have plenty to do.” 

And then he spoke of Drusilla. 

“ If you could know how I grieve about her. 
Is she bearing up? ” 

“Yes, she is bearing up,” said Connie, “but 
she is very, very unhappy. Of course, she is not 
well.” 

Carlingford was sitting, leaning forward with 
his hands clasped between his knees. 

“ If only I had known! If only I had guessed 
that things were going in such a cruel groove how 
differently I would have acted!” he said slowly. 
“I was such a fool, Connie, that night — such a 
fool!” 

Connie said nothing, but her heart began to 
beat quickly, for they were drawing nearer to the 
dangerous ground now. 

“And yet it was so natural. She maddened 
me! She seemed to want to make me wild. I 
have thought the whole thing over and over again. 
Every word we spoke I can remember — every 
inflection of her voice — and on my soul I can't 
understand why she wanted to quarrel. Does 
she ever speak of me? ” he queried abruptly. 

Connie Lingfield said “No” in a whisper. 


28 % THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

The young man sat back in his chair now; he 
was frowning. 

“ And you — do you speak of me to her? ” 

Connie merely shook her head. 

Carlingford felt the colour rush to his face. 

“This is one of the questions I want you to 
answer if you can. Why don’t you speak about 
me to Drusilla? ” 

Connie looked at him half -pleadingly, and then 
said: 

“Because I am afraid.” 

“Afraid?” 

Lord Carlingford stared for an instant at the 
girl opposite with a strange expression in his 
eyes. 

“ Afraid,” he repeated. “ Why? Is it because 
you think Drusilla would resent your approaching 
the subject, or because there is another reason?” 

Miss Lingfield sat a moment in silence; then 
she said : 

“There are many reasons why I hesitate to 
speak about you, Jim — and yet I want you to 
believe me if you can,” she added most earnestly, 
“ that not a day passes in which I am not tempted 
to do this.” 

He was silent now. 

“ I am grateful to you,” he said when he spoke 
again. He got up and went to the window, and 
then he turned round. 

“ I have tried to convince myself that she was 
in earnest that night, Connie, but I can’t! It 
was such a foolish quarrel. Drusilla must know 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 283 

things can’t rest where they are. She means 
everything in life to me; I can’t and won’t lose 
her! I told you that I would be patient, and, 
indeed, I am prepared to wait for years if only 
I have the satisfaction of knowing that Drusilla 
will come back to me in the end. Won’t you 
help me to get at this understanding? Won’t you 
help me to let her realize that I am here waiting — 
waiting; that I shall wait all my life? ” 

Connie’s eyes were full of tears. 

“ I will do what I can,” she faltered, “ hut, Jim 
— I cannot promise you anything; there is more 
in this than — than you know.” 

“Ah!” exclaimed Carlingford, and his face lit 
up. “At last I am getting at the truth! I was 
certain that there was something below the sur- 
face — something which influenced Drusilla — 
which, perhaps, explains everything! Dear 
Connie, don’t look at me so nervously; I won’t 
make a move of any sort. I will just wait on 

and on But you have put a sense of life 

into me, and if you have not given me any defi- 
nite hope you have at least taken from me that 
sense of mystifying helplessness which was cor- 
roding the best and healthiest part of me.” 

He took both of Connie’s hands and he pressed 
them warmly. 

“Where you can help me,” he said, “is to 
speak of me to Drusilla. Let her talk — even if 
it makes her angry, let her talk. And, Connie 
dear, keep well before her the knowledge of my 
right to share all that is in her life. If all had 


284 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


gone on as we hoped, we should have been mar- 
ried by now. I regard her as much my wife as 
though we had been married. When two people 
stand so closely together as that there can be no 
question of separating for some idle reason or 
angry quarrel. Of my own free will I will never 
renounce my claim to her ! ” 

As he took Connie downstairs to her carriage 
he told her that his people knew nothing of what 
had passed between himself and Drusilla. 

“ Poor Beth’s death has been an ample expla- 
nation for everything. Then my father’s illness 
has occupied all my mother’s thoughts. If Flora 
had been on the spot things might have been dif- 
ferent,” the young man added with a soft smile; 
“ but by good luck she and Torchester went south 
some weeks ago, and they talk of doing a tour 
round the world. Before they come home I mean 
to have made everything all right again.” 

His confidence was very cheering, but as he put 
her into the brougham and she drove away, Con- 
nie lost the reflection of his optimism, and she 
remembered her promise to help him with nerv- 
ousness. 

“He little imagines how difficult it will be,” 
she said to herself. 

Several days later Miss Lingfield wrote to 
Lord Carlingford: 

“I know you will be expecting to hear from 
me. I am sorry, but it has been quite impossible 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


285 


for me to do what you want me to do. Drusilla 
has been very unwell. It is nothing really seri- 
ous, but Dr. Redgood, whom I sent for at once 
because he has always doctored her, insists that 
Drusilla must be kept absolutely quiet. She is to 
see no one except myself occasionally, and she is 
to have a trained nurse with her all the time. Dr. 
Redgood hopes that this kind of rest-cure will 
completely restore her. She seems glad to lie in 
bed, and is so good, doing everything she is told, 
and trying to get better. Yesterday something 
very pleasant happened. I don’t know if Beth 
ever spoke to you of two great-aunts of hers, one 
of whom was her godmother, who live in the Lake 
District? Well, these two old ladies have been 
such dears to Drusilla, and yesterday they wrote 
to say that whilst the younger one, Miriam, had 
settled to buy the big library, and all the books 
which poor Beth had loved, the elder sister, 
Sophia, had made an offer for Crowder Chase 
and all it contains, and that my stepmother had 
signified her intention of accepting both offers. 
This has brought a touch of real joy to Drusilla. 
I know she has been fretting at the thought that 
the old house and all the things which belonged 
to her happy childhood might pass into the hands 
of strangers.” 

Lord Carlingford was in Yorkshire when this 
letter reached him. He read it through slowly 
many times, and each time a certain impression 
deepened. 


286 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


In her innocent desire to give him agreeable 
news, Connie had unconsciously and very signifi- 
cantly added to that confession which had fallen 
so involuntarily from her lips a few days ago. 

Dimly the man began to decipher the truth. 
Of course, he lacked the essential elements with 
which to form the shape in which that truth would 
later on present itself to him, but he snatched 
eagerly now at the certainty that the barrier 
which Drusilla had built up between herself and 
her love was one founded, not on a paltry fickle- 
ness of disposition, as she would have had him 
believe, but on a much more serious matter, some- 
thing which Carlingford felt instinctively had 
been introduced suddenly to her knowledge, and 
might, indeed, have partaken even of the nature 
of a revelation. 

He marvelled now that some such suggestion 
had not come to him before; for casting^ things 
over and over in his mind, he remembered so much 
that might have awakened his curiosity and per- 
haps provoked a suspicion that all was not work- 
ing smoothly. There had been, for instance, that 
strange bitterness and hostility on Mrs. Ling- 
field’s part towards Drusilla, a feeling which the 
girl herself had discussed with him so freely, and 
more especially at the time of Edmund Ling- 
field’s death. Then there had been that subtle 
suggestion of some anxiety, some trouble wear- 
ing and shadowing poor Bertha! 

Had he not many a time felt that she was fret- 
ting in undue fashion about Drusilla’s forthcom- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 287 

ing separation from herself? And yet she had 
urged a nearer date for the marriage! 

A memory of the day Beth and he had lunched 
together at that little restaurant in Soho came 
back vividly to Carlingford’s mind now. He 
recalled how, just for a moment, Bertha’s state- 
ment as to the settlement she intended making on 
her sister had caused him to wonder. The matter 
had, however, seemed so unimportant in a sense, 
that he had not given it another thought. As he 
had told Drusilla that bygone morning when she 
had pretended to cross-examine him, money in 
connection with herself had no existence or sig- 
nificance. But now Bertha’s declaration that she 
had intended to settle half of all she possessed on 
Drusilla assumed different proportions. 

“ There is money at the root of this mystery,” 
he said to himself as he read and re-read Connie’s 
letter; and then he added: “but there is some- 
thing more than money.” 

It was abundantlv clear to him that her sister’s 
death had not enriched Drusilla, for had she been 
wealthy there would have been no necessity for 
these two old relatives to have stepped in and 
prevented poor Bertha’s property from passing 
into the hands of strangers. But this was not the 
phase of the situation which held Carlingford; 
there was something more than this; something 
deeper and more vital — something, he said, with 
a thrill at his heart, which Drusilla did not intend 
him to know. 

Money alone would not have divided them. A 


288 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

yearning to beat down this invisible barrier 
surged passionately in the man’s heart. 

He wrote by return to Connie Lingfield: 

“ I told you I would be patient, but I find I 
overrated my powers in this respect. I will wait 
till she is well again; then shall see her and plead 
for myself 1” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


Keston was in London again when Drusilla 
was pronounced convalescent. His new duties 
kept him closely occupied, so that he had but 
little leisure, and he, therefore, called very rarely 
on Miss Lingfield. But he wrote frequently, 
and Connie had sent him regular news of the 
invalid. 

“We shall go abroad as soon as Drusilla feels 
equal to travelling. Dr. Redgood sends her out 
in the air now as often as she will go, but though 
she is so much better, she seems to have lost all 
interest in things,” Connie wrote on one occasion. 
“Her bodily strength has come back, but I feel 
sometimes as if her spirit had gone for ever.” 

Brian Keston answered this letter in person 
one sunshiny afternoon. 

He was going north again on the morrow, and 
this was his only chance of seeing Miss Ling- 
field. 

He found her in her carriage just starting for 
a drive. She would have alighted and entered 
with him, but Keston would not permit this. 

“ I have just wanted to see you for a moment, 
if possible.” Then he said, “and to see Miss 
Heronworth also.” 

“Drusilla is out,” Miss Lingfield said; “this 
is one of her wandering days: the sort of day 


290 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


when I never interfere with her. She does just 
exactly what she wants, goes where she likes, and 
is not expected to answer any questions. But she 
will be back at tea-time. Won’t you come back 
too?” 

He shook his head. 

“No; I leave early in the morning and I am 
due to have tea with my mother.” 

“Drusilla will be sorry to have missed you,” 
said Miss Lingfield; “she was speaking of you 
only last night. Perhaps if you go into the Park 
and then towards Kensington Gardens you may 
meet her.” 

Brian watched the carriage drive away, and 
then followed Connie’s advice. He walked for 
nearly half an hour, looking eagerly about him, 
and then he saw Drusilla. She was walking very 
slowly. At sight of him she pulled up in almost 
startled fashion. Then she gave him a smile of 
real welcome. 

“ I’ve been walking miles and miles and miles,” 
she said, “ and I am not a bit tired yet.” 

He contradicted her. 

“ I think you are very tired,” he said. “ I no- 
ticed that as I saw you coming towards me.” 

“ How on earth can you know I am tired if I 
say I am not? ” Drusilla asked him crossly. 

His heart leaped at that first note of the old 
petulance. 

“ Because,” he said, “ I don’t believe you know 
anything about yourself one way or another.” 

“Shall we sit down? If you are going to 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 291 

preach I shall feel tired at once,” Drusilla an- 
swered to this. 

“ I should be glad to preach if I felt you would 
listen.” 

“That is a pretty way of wrapping things 
up,” said Drusilla. “Why don’t you say, ‘If I 
felt you had the sense to understand ’? Mr. Kes- 
ton, if you only knew it, I have been hanging on 
to you as a source of consolation! Because,” she 
explained, “ when the whole of a family unite in 
finding a person a fool, and an uneducated one 
into the bargain, and club together to prevent this 
fool from starving, it is desirable to have one 
person to stand up for the fool! So I have been 
comforting myself by saying to myself, ‘Now, 
Mr. Keston knows I really am clever, because 
Mr. Keston has been educating me.’ Do you 
remember the day I asked you how to spell ‘ dis- 
appointment ’ ? ” 

“If we sit here a moment,” said Keston, “we 
shall be out of the wind and can make believe 
that it isn’t cold. It was a happy chance to have 
met you, for I wanted to have five minutes’ con- 
versation with you before going north to- 
morrow.” 

“You going away again!” said Drusilla. 
“ I am sorry.” 

He bit his lip. 

“Are you?” Without waiting for any fur- 
ther word from her he went on hurriedly: “Yes, 
I am going away again. I am not sorry to leave 
town, though it is a bit bleak in the North; but 


292 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

it is the country, and that always appeals to 
me.” 

“I am sorry you are going,” said Drusilla a 
second time. 

And the man asked her almost roughly: 

“ Why do you say that? ” 

She shrugged her shoulders. 

“Because it is the truth, and because of an- 
other reason.” 

Drusilla had thrown back her veil. She turned 
and looked at him as she said : “ I don’t want you 
to go because you can be useful to me. You are 
the one person I can talk to. The one person, 
oddly enough, who understands, really and truly, 
what — what everything means to me just now; 
therefore, it is natural I should be sorry when 
you tell me you are going away, isn’t it? ” 

“ You know, of course,” Keston said, “ that no 
matter where I go, I can always return if you 
want me.” 

“That is very good of you,” Drusilla an- 
swered; “but it isn’t the same as having you on 
the spot to be called for when wanted!” 

He caught his breath and shivered. 

“Won’t you speak out now — won’t you tell 
me everything?” 

She paused a moment, and then said, in a voice 
that brought tears to his eyes: 

“Oh! I suffer — I suffer! And you know, 
don’t you, that it is not only for myself that I 
suffer? Mr. Keston, she was so proud — so just 
— so wonderfully good — it has been a kind of 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


293 


agony to me to hear her criticised, to have her 
actions questioned! I have never wanted to 
know why, with all her marvellous business ca- 
pacity, her perception, she should not have left 
things definitely settled when she died! She did 
not think she was going to die, and where I was 
concerned you know what was in her heart.” 
She brushed her hot, tired eyes; then she said: 
“I have done everything, obeyed every order, 
because it seems to me I can give her peace if I 
do all this ; she is with me so tangibly, so actually, 

at times ” After a long pause, in which the 

man’s silence was so eloquent to Drusilla, she 
said: “When Mr. Lethbridge told me there was 
no will, I could have struck him! Not for giving 
me the information, but for keeping it from me 
till it was too late to let her know how little it 
meant to me! All those days when she was dy- 
ing, she was fighting for just one hour of coher- 
ent speech — for strength — and she only wanted 
this hour to put things right for me. Imagine 
how I should have striven to put peace into her 
heart — dear, true loving creature that she was ! ” 

Keston ventured to lay his hand for an instant 
on one of hers. 

“ The peace is there now,” he said. 

Drusilla put up her veil and was looking across 
the sunlit park, and he sat and looked at her, at 
the delicate face which had grown so pinched and 
wistful; at the shadowed eyes, and the lips which 
quivered from time to time, but never with smiles 
in these days. 


294 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Suddenly she looked round at him. 

“ I want you to do me a favour — just a little 
one.” 

“ At least, ask me what you know I can do.” 

“Oh! you can do this. Bertha told me that 
Aunt Edith had seen your mother, and had put 
an idea in Lady Draycott’s mind which was 
troubling you. Well, you know, I think it was 
very natural that Lady Draycott should have 
had such an idea, and I — I am going to ask you 
to help me do something I very much want to do. 
Uncle Edmund left me many jewels which once 
had belonged to my mother. I want Lady Dray- 
cott to have these ; they — they can’t give back to 
her all she lost, but they really do belong to her. 
Now you are furious!” Drusilla finished nerv- 
ously. 

“It is horrible of you to be so cruel!” Keston 
answered her passionately. “My God! as if 
things were not bad enough as they are ! ” 

Drusilla’s pale face flushed. 

“ I don’t want to be cruel. I only want to try 
to right a big wrong by the very small means in 
my power.” 

Brian Keston got up, stood irresolutely a sec- 
ond or two as if he would leave her, and then sat 
down again. 

“If you will permit me to advise you,” he 
said very quietly, “ I earnestly counsel you not to 
do this. My mother a long time ago outgrew all 
recollection of what happened when my father 
was alive. Just for a moment, through the mal- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 295 

ice and gossip of a foolish and spiteful woman, 
her interest was roused in these old things, but 
this interest was happily stamped out, and I 
can undertake to assure you that she has once 
again forgotten the old days. There is much in 
her present life to keep remembrance in the back- 
ground.” 

Drusilla sighed. 

“All of which means that I am to mind my 
own business, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes — if you like to put it that way.” 

Then he looked at her. 

“It is my turn now to entreat a favour. I 
want you also to forget! Not your life of happi- 
ness and love with Bertha Heronworth, but the 
life which existed before you were born. If you 
really and truly wish to serve her, here is your 
chance. You have simply to put out of your re- 
membrance all that you were told by Mrs. Ling- 
field, and to rise superior to hysterical resolu- 
tions ! ” 

“It is so easy to say this kind of thing!” 

“No, it is not easy,” he contradicted her; 
“ neither is it easy to do, but it can be done if one 
is determined.” 

“ I am so tired,” Drusilla said, as he paused, 
and, in truth, she spoke wearily. “ I don’t want 
to be determined or to do anything but go to 
sleep. I have had one month in bed and now I 
want six more!” 

Keston moved restlessly; then he said almost 
coldly: 


296 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“Of course you are tired because you are at- 
tempting the impossible.” 

He looked at her as he spoke, and Drusilla 
coloured hotly for an instant. 

“ I am not sure that I know what you mean,” 
she said, but he answered in that same quiet 
way: 

“I am very sure you do understand me, and 
thoroughly. You are passing through a natural, 
perhaps an inevitable phase just now; you are 
strung up to attempt deeds of sacrifice, and you 
attribute your motives to righteous and noble 
sentiments, whereas they are really a cloak for 
one form of selfishness. If you want to do your 
duty, there are one or two matters, particularly 
one, clamouring close to your hand to be done.” 

She was very white now and was trembling a 
little ; then she began to pull on her glove, which 
she had been patting and smoothing uncon- 
sciously. 

“ It seems I was wrong just now when I said 
that you were the one person who understood — 
things, for — for you are hopelessly wrong. If 

— if you did understand ” she broke off ; 

“and I relied on you,” she said then in a whis- 
per. “ I have just been living lately in the faith 
that you would sympathize so surely, that you 
would help me.” 

“He had turned his face away again, and he 
bit his lip sharply, but he said nothing; he knew 
there was more to come from her heart, and in a 
little while it came. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


297 


“Of course — I — know quite well what you 
mean when you talk of duties to be done. After 
all, you — you are looking at things as Bertha 
did. It seems awfully queer to me that you 
should do this; but” — she buttoned her glove, 
and then said as distinctly as she could — “there 
are some things which are impossible. That is 
how I regard the duties, or, at least, the one 
particular duty you want me to do.” 

Keston got up. 

“I don’t think you ought to sit here any 
longer; there is a sting in the wind which means 
treachery and possible influenza.” 

She got up obediently. 

“Your sermon was so interesting,” she said. 
“ I never knew there was a sting in the wind.” 

As they walked away she said : 

“And so you are going north again to-mor- 
row, and we shall not see you again for ages 
and ages?” 

“ That depends. I told you just a little while 
ago I am always at your disposition if there is 
any way in which I can serve you.” 

“ Oh! if I want you, be very sure I shall send 
for you! Please be prepared.” 

After a little Drusilla said: 

“I am not going to bear you any malice, al- 
though you have disappointed me awfully.” 

Keston laughed. 

“ I want to rouse you, to wake you to realities. 
You have played with life all this time, now 
you must put play aside.” 


298 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

“What do you want me to do?” Drusilla 
asked him in an exasperated way. “Goodness 
knows! I am ready and willing to work if some 
one will only give me a chance! I — I think 
it’s rather beastly of you to say these kind of 
things when you know how idiotically useless I 
am!” 

“The idea of earning your living is one of 
those quixotic emotions which have no value,” 
Brian Keston said coldly; “and to grumble 
at your dependence is not only foolish, but 
wicked. When I tell you to put play aside, I 
am not urging you to take to some menial oc- 
cupation as an alternative. But — ” he said, 
with a touch of passion breaking the regularity 
of his voice, “but you know so well what I 
mean. You may try not to see, not to hear, 
not to understand, but you know all the time.” 

“Good-bye,” said Drusilla. “I am going 
to have that cab.” 

She gave him her hand, and he held it loosely 
for an instant; then he stooped and kissed it. 

Then he put her into the cab, and it began to 
move on, to mingle with the traffic. Just for a 
moment he had a fugitive glimpse of her black- 
robed figure; then the driver whipped up his 
horse and the cab turned the corner. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


When they were at dinner Drusilla spoke of 
having met Keston in the Park that afternoon. 

“I am so glad he found you,” Connie said, 
“he seemed anxious to see you before going 
away.” 

“He had nothing of importance to say, but 
he managed to preach quite a decent sermon. 
He ought to have gone into the Church! All 
the same,” Drusilla added, “ I am rather sorry 
he has had to leave town again so soon.” 

“Are you?” queried Connie. “Why?” 

Drusilla did not answer immediately. Then 
she said: 

“I have arrived at a certain determination, 
but it requires Mr. Keston to make that deter- 
mination a fact.” 

“ I don’t understand you,” Connie said. And 
Drusilla smiled. 

“ No, darling, I know you don’t.” 

They waited till the maids had left the room 
before speaking again. It was Drusilla who 
broke the silence. 

“ I have been rather impatient with you, Con- 
nie, because you haven’t even guessed at — at this 
determination. And yet to me it seems natural. 
It is just a simple question of duty.” 

299 


300 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“Duty!” Connie repeated the word, frowning 
a little; then she asked: “And you associate Mr. 
Keston in with this duty? ” 

Drusilla made no immediate answer; the faint- 
est of faint colours had dawned in her cheeks. 

“Naturally, Connie dear; the matter does not 
lie in my hands, although I know what I ought 
to do.” 

“You talk in riddles,” Connie Lingfield said a 
trifle coldly. 

“I would prefer to keep the subject in riddle 
form, but that is not possible. I want Mr. Kes- 
ton to remain in town, Connie, because I — I am 
tired of beating things about in my own poor 
little brain, and because the sooner he makes up 
his mind to ask me to marry him the better it 
will be for everyone! ” 

Connie looked as she felt, thunderstruck. 

“ Marry! You are talking of marrying Brian 
Keston?” 

“ Only if he asks me, bien entenduj but if he 
does ask me, yes ! ” 

“ I should like to know your reason? ” 

Drusilla shrugged her shoulders. 

“ There are several reasons.” 

“Perhaps,” said Connie a little coldly; “but 
what sort of reasons?” 

“ I will give you two to go on with : Because I 
feel I ought to marry him, and because we may 
presume he should be of my opinion if he asks 
me! Those are two excellent reasons, my dear 
Connie.” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


301 


The other girl looked at her in perplexity and 
then said, halting a little as she spoke: 

“ To marry a man one must care for him.” 

“ It is not absolutely necessary,” Drusilla an- 
swered carelessly. “ I daresay if we could only 
know the truth about lots of marriages we should 
discover that the husbands and wives never trou- 
bled to find out if they cared or not. Being in 
love is a servant’s prerogative like a bank holi- 
day.” 

Miss Lingfield remained silent for a moment. 

“I am sure,” she said eventually, “that Mr. 
Keston hasn’t the least idea of such a thing as 
this!” 

“ Connie dear,” said Drusilla, “ you know it’s 
rather a tall order to arrogate to ourselves a per- 
fect knowledge of what is passing in the minds 
of other people. Why, we can’t keep pace with 
our own thoughts — at least, I know I can’t with 
mine — so how can we construe the thoughts of 
others? My own impression is, that Mr. Keston 
has pictured me already boiling his potatoes and 
darning his socks. But then, again, I may be 
all wrong! Very probably he detests me! That 
is beside the question, however. What really 
matters is that if he wants to marry me — I shall 
say yes.” 

Then Connie went and stood very close to 
Drusilla. 

“ I know,” she said in a soft voice. “ I under- 
stand — you think because your father did a great 
wrong to his father that if you sacrifice your own 


302 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

happiness you will be doing something to right 
that old wrong. It is a beautiful thought, Dru- 
silla; but, darling, like many beautiful things, it 
isn’t practicable.” 

Drusilla got up very quickly, displacing the 
hand which Connie had laid so affectionately on 
her shoulder. 

“ I don’t expect you or anyone to understand 
just how I feel in all that concerns my father,” 
she said in a stifled kind of way. There was a 
note of passion in her voice, but she controlled 
this. “ I — I can’t give back the money that was 
taken from so many people,” she said. “ I can 
only do what is possible.” 

Connie drew a deep breath. 

“ This is surely a fantastical idea of duty! The 
man to whom you really owe duty is the man 
you love — the man who loves you!” 

Drusilla put out her hand protestingly. 

“ There is no such man,” she said in a low 
voice. 

She turned round sharply and moved as 
though to go out of the room, but Connie hurry- 
ing forward, stood between her and the door. 

‘‘Drusilla dear, I am going to speak out — I 
must speak. You are doing a great, great wrong 
to yourself and to Jim; and now you would pro- 
pose doing an even greater wrong to Mr. Keston. 
It’s all very well for you to plan a future with 
Brian Keston, but if he is what I believe him to 
be, he is the last man on earth to ask you to be 
his wife!” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


303 


“ That, again, is only your supposition, Con- 
nie,” Drusilla said gently. 

But Connie was on fire now. 

“No — no — it is not merely supposition; I 
know this man ; believe me, he would be incapable 
of doing anything dishonourable.” 

Drusilla blushed hotly. 

“ And you consider it would be dishonourable 
to want to marry me?” 

“Naturally,” the other girl answered firmly. 
“ Since Mr. Keston knows that you are the prom- 
ised wife of another man.” 

Drusilla went back to the table and sat down ; 
she said nothing. The hot blood lingered for a 
while in her face. Connie went on speaking. 

“And even if Jim did not exist, I doubt if 
Mr. Keston would care to marry any woman 
who became his wife simply to satisfy a sense of 
duty. In my opinion,” said Connie distinctly, 
“he deserves a better kind of wife.” She paused 
to take breath, and then moved away from the 
door. She felt now that Drusilla would hear her 
out, and as she sat down she began speaking of 
Carlingford. 

“ Before you were ill I promised Jim I would 
do all I could to help him. I promised to re- 
mind you of his right to share all that came and 
went in your life. I could not keep my promise 
at once because Dr. Redgood prohibited any 
excitement, and after that because I lacked 
courage; but now, even if it hurts you, I am 
going to speak to you about Jim. I am going 


304 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


to tell you that you must deal straightforwardly 
with him, Drusilla, that you must tell him the 
truth.” She leaned forward and stretched out 
her hand across the table imploringly. “ Oh ! 
darling,” she said, “ do you think I don’t know 
what this will cost you? Do you suppose I care 
to say things like this to you? I only want to 
be able to put some peace into your heart, and I 
want to give Jim peace, too.” 

“You have seen him, then?” 

Connie nodded her head. 

“ Frequently — he writes nearly every day. 
Drusilla, he loves you; he refuses to be put out 
of your life. Darling, you must tell him every- 
thing!” 

“And if I refuse?” asked Drusilla, not an- 
grily, but in a voice that had the sound of tears 
in it. 

“You won’t refuse — you can’t. If you can 
see a duty in so distant a matter as the righting 
of a wrong done to Mr. Keston’s father — you 
cannot shut your eyes to the duty you owe Car- 
lingford. Do you realize that if nothing had 
happened you would have been his wife by 
now?” 

Drusilla sat a long time in silence. 

“It’s queer,” she said when she spoke, “how 
easily one can muddle things, Connie. I wanted 
to do the Tightest — the most honourable — thing, 
and I have only suceeded in doing wrong all 
round, apparently. And everybody denounces 
me! Mr. Keston jumped on me in the Park to- 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


305 


day and you are jumping on me now. It — it 
isn’t exactly amusing to be jumped on, Connie! ” 

She stretched out her hand as she spoke, and 
met and clasped that other small hand which she 
had refused to see before. 

“Don’t hate me,” Connie said, and her lips 
quivered. 

They sat hand in hand for a spell; then Dru- 
silla got up. 

“I suppose, since you are all of the same 
opinion, I must be in the wrong, but to me it 
seemed so clear — such a definite duty — I am not 
what I was when Jim asked me to marry him.” 

“ That is where you are wrong, Drusilla, dear- 
est — you are just what you were. I wish you 
would talk the whole thing out with Jim — he is 
waiting, and he means to wait. Don’t keep him 
waiting too long.” 

“But ” Drusilla did not say what was 

hovering on her lips, for at that moment one of 
the maids entered the room. 

“If you please, miss,” she said, addressing 

Connie linked her arm in Drusilla’s, and they 
is here. She would be glad to speak to you and 
Miss Drusilla.” 

Catherine to come to us there.” 
like a cry. 

“We will go to the drawing-room? Ask 

“Catherine!” Drusilla said the word almost 
Connie, “Miss Heronworth’s maid, Catherine, 
mounted the stairs together. 

“I dread seeing Catherine,” Drusilla said as 


306 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


she paused an instant for breath. “I know she 
— she blamed me for everything. She was so 
cruel to me when the illness began.” 

“ She nearly broke her heart over you when 
we came away from Crowder Chase,” Connie 
said, eager as usual to drive away shadows. 

The meeting between Beth’s loving, faithful 
servant and Drusilla was pathetic. The girl 
went forward with outstretched hands, but 
Catherine just took her in her arms and kissed 
her again and again. 

“ Oh, dear ! ” she said; “ oh, dear! but I’ve just 
ached for the sight of you, Miss Drusilla! — my 
heart’s been cold and empty waitin’ there in that 
barren old house and wonderin’ what was doing 
with you.” 

There was something motherly and soothing 
and indescribably comforting in the clasp of 
Catherine’s arms ; the sound of her voice brought 
back visions of hours which had been so homely 
and so sweet. Almost Drusilla could fancy she 
saw Beth smiling at her in the old tender fashion. 

It was a moment of childhood given back un- 
expectedly, and the restless anguish of her heart 
seemed to cease and grow calm under this com- 
monplace, yet beautifying influence. 

Catherine had many questions to ask and much 
to tell. She had remained at Crowder Chase at 
Connie’s request. It had been the girl’s inten- 
tion to have brought all the contents of Bertha’s 
bedroom and given these well-loved things to 
Drusilla. The prompt action, however, of the 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


307 


two old Misses Heronworth had rendered this 
unnecessary. Still, Catherine had remained on, 
faithful to her trust, and now she had only come 
away because the new mistress had charged her 
with an errand to Drusilla. 

“You see, miss, when — when I saw the end 
was coming, I locked Miss Beth’s desk after I’d 
shut away all the papers, and I kept the key. 
Well, then, Mr. Lethbridge he come and asked 
for the key for to go through them papers and 
see if there was aught there *as Miss Beth had 
left with instructions, or such-like. And they 
couldn’t find nothing — not a line, and she, poor 
dear! lying there just frettin’ and killin’ herself 
because she knew they’d look after she’d gone 
and find nothing ! ” 

She broke down and cried again, and the two 
girls tried to comfort her. 

“ Tell us why you have come now,” Drusilla 
asked a little while later. She was sitting close 
to Catherine, and the maid was holding her hand. 

“ It was this way, Miss Drusilla. As soon as 
Miss Sophia Heronworth came back again I 
knew it was going to be all right for me and the 
other old servants. Well, miss, she treated us 
just as if we was her friends, and she said we 
was all to stay on, and just keep the house going 
as it used to be kept, because she hoped, and that 
soon, to persuade Miss Drusilla to go back there 
to stay. And then, Miss Connie, I took the 
liberty of speaking about Miss Beth’s room, and 
how you’d meant to have brought everything for 


308 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


Miss Drusilla — the old lady she just nodded her 
head, and then she said, ‘Well, they belong to 
Miss Drusilla now.’ And then, miss, she said as 
she’d like to take something away with her as a 
kind of remembrance of Miss Beth, and I sug- 
gested the blotter and the pen as she’d always 
used, poor dear, and Miss Sophia Heronworth 
was very pleased. ‘ I doubt if I’ll keep them a 
very long time, Catherine,’ she said to me as I 
give them to her; ‘for I am old, and they shall 
come back to Miss Drusilla.’ And it were just 
that what brought me up to you in this way.” 

“And now that you have come, Catherine, I 
hope you will be able to stay and look after Miss 
Drusilla. She has missed you so much,” Con- 
nie Lingfield said in her gentle way. 

Catherine thanked her gratefully. “I’d like 
to do it, miss, I’d ask for nothing better; but I’ll 
have to put the matter to Miss Sophia, because, 
as things stand, I am left at Crowder Chase to 
look after everything. Well, Miss Drusilla, 
you’ll wonder what it was as brought me.” She 
put her hand into the pocket of her coat and 
produced a small white flat packet. “A letter 
come this morning from Miss Sophia and inside 
there was another letter. Here it is.” 

Drusilla took the envelope which Catherine 
unfolded from the white paper. She winced as 
she saw the handwriting. It was in Bertha’s 
familiar and precise characters, written, how- 
ever, in pencil, and was addressed to Carling- 
ford. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


30 $ 


“ It seems,” said Catherine, “ as that letter had 
got tucked away under the lining in the old 
blotter, and Miss Sophia found it when she’d got 
it home. Perhaps it isn’t of no account, but all 
the same she told me to bring it to you, Miss 
Drusilla, as you’d be sure to know whether to 
send it on to his lordship or not. Miss Sophia, 
she was most special about me bringin’ it to you 
myself, miss.” 

Drusilla got up and walked to the far end of 
the room. Tears were scalding her eyes; she 
held the letter to her breast and then to her hot 
lips, and the yearning for the tangible presence 
of the woman she had called sister came back to 
torture her once again. 

She sat apart while Connie and the old servant 
talked together in low voices, and a curious feel- 
ing came upon her as she crouched back in the 
chair and the burning tears rolled down her 
cheeks. 

She felt as though everything that was real 
and tangible about her faded into a mist; the 
warmth and the light of the room and the whis- 
per of the voices were shut away by that mist 
and she and Beth were alone together! It was 
not Beth of the happy, placid, sunshiny days, it 
was the Beth of that bleak morning (when they 
had sat together in the old bedroom and had 
faced the truth) upon whom she looked in this 
strange moment of trance. 

The hungry entreaty, the loving anguish, 
which had lived in Bertha’s eyes that morning 


310 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


and had escaped her in every word she had ut- 
tered, were poignantly clear now in this vision 
of her. 

Just for a brief spell this sense of an actual 
communion with one who had loved her with 
such an uncommon love dominated Drusilla; 
then it began to leave her, and slowly the mist 
cleared and she knew she was alone. But if 
that close and clear vision of Beth passed, some- 
thing remained, a sense of knowledge, a sense 
of remorse, and a sense of responsibility. 

Drusilla brushed the tears from her eyes 
and looked down at the letter lying in her hand. 
She realized that this was no ordinary letter, 
but that in the frail paper envelope there lay a 
document of the greatest importance, no less 
indeed than that very confession which she had 
denied Carlingford the right to hear. 

It was not possible, of course, to guess with 
any assurance as to when this letter had been 
written, but what seemed to her most probable 
was that in that long, weary night following on 
Mrs. Lingfield’s revelation of the truth Bertha 
must have sat and framed the story which had to 
be told. It was evident, at least, that she had in- 
tended to give the letter to Carlingford herself; 
that was why she had not sent it by post, but had 
slipped it into the blotter, keeping it in reserve 
till he came, or perhaps till she had spoken once 
more with Drusilla. 

It had lain hidden long enough, now it must 
go to him, and Drusilla would send it herself. 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


311 


Her hesitation was at an end, the truth would go 
forward. 

It was a long time before Connie ventured to 
approach Drusilla. She had taken Catherine 
out of the room, and had given instructions that 
she should be installed comfortably for the 
night; and all this had been done and yet Dru- 
silla had not moved. 

The hour was getting late and the girl was 
still regarded as an invalid. Connie stood by 
the fire and looked doubtfully — anxiously, in- 
deed — into that dim corner where Drusilla sat, 
and after a long pause she walked across the 
room. 

Drusilla got up at her approach; she placed 
one hand to her head and stood for an instant 
dazed, and then she said with a faint smile: 

“Yes, I know it is getting late, and you want 
me to go to bed, but there is something I have 
to do, Connie, before I go to bed. This has 
come to me from Beth, and I must send it on.” 

She gave the letter into Connie’s hands and 
went across to the writing-table. 

“Where do you address Jim?” she asked in a 
low voice, as she sat down. 

“He is in Yorkshire, or was, two days ago, 
when I last heard.” 

Connie put the letter down on the table and 
moved back to the fire. 

“Don’t tire yourself,” she said to Drusilla. 

And Drusilla answered: 

“No, this doesn’t tire me.” 


St% THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

She wrote quite naturally: 

“ Connie tells me that you are waiting to hear 
from me, that you intend to wait. I am very, 
very sorry that I have treated you so unkindly. 
I know now you must have guessed that there 
was something which I did not want to share 
with you, hurting me and spoiling everything. 
I am not sure whether you will quite understand 
my motive in keeping this something from you, 
but I hope you will. Oddly enough, just to- 
night, when Connie spoke about you for the 
first time and made me see what I have tried to 
avoid seeing before, that it is my positive duty 
to put everything before you straightforwardly, 
a strange circumstance has happened. Cather- 
ine has just come up from Crowder Chase and 
brought the enclosed letter. It was written to 
you by my dearest Beth, I believe, the night be- 
fore she was taken ill, and it would have reached 
you long before this, only that it was hidden in 
her old blotter. I think Beth wanted to tell you 
all about me. When you have read this letter 
will you let me know if I am right? Then, if 
it should not contain this little story, I will tell 
it to you myself.” 

She signed this and addressed it boldly; and 
then she held it out to Connie. 

“I want it to go at once,” she said. “I — I 
have kept him waiting such a long, long time, 
and now — I want him to have this as soon as he 
can get it.” 


CHAPTER XXV 

Lord Carlingford was not in Yorkshire 
when Drusilla’s letter reached its destination; 
he had left the day before for Scotland. In 
saddling himself with the responsibility of look- 
ing into his father’s affairs, the young man had 
undertaken more than he was prepared for. A 
certain amount of disorder he had anticipated, 
for Lord Southborne was proverbially improvi- 
dent; and had from his boyhood adopted a care- 
less attitude to all business matters. But the 
chaos which prevailed was something which Car- 
lingford had not anticipated. Of course, he had 
known that his father’s extravagances and losses, 
especially on the turf, must have swallowed up 
a vast amount of money. He had, further, 
known through his mother that there were times 
when the cost of life was so great that many 
things which should have fallen naturally into 
place for his sisters and herself had had to be 
eschewed: as, for instance, a season in town or 
any foreign travelling. Where Lord South- 
borne himself had been concerned there had 
never been any hesitation or question of sacri- 
fice; money had always been found somewhere 
or other, and the certain knowledge that his easy- 
going methods conduced to dishonesty in those 

313 


314 * 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


who served him had not troubled him in the very- 
least. Lord Southborne’s weakness had always 
been to pose as a grand seigneur; he loved to be 
surrounded by a retinue of expensive, useless 
people, and to play the part of a king in his own 
domain, never counting the cost. In resigning 
his commission and cutting himself adrift from 
a social soldier’s career, Carlingford had acted 
not merely on the impulse of circumstance. The 
possibilities of active military service would have 
found him only too keen to remain in the Army, 
but he had grown a little tired of parade and 
pretence, and his father’s illness gave him the 
opportunity he needed of occupying himself in 
some more strenuous way. There had always 
been a deeper drift in Carlingford’s mind than 
people who admired him as a handsome, popular 
man-about-town could have imagined. He had 
allowed his life to have been planned out for him 
in the beginning, and, indeed, had found this life 
pleasant enough at first; but he had gradually 
grown into the habit of thinking things out for 
himself, and the way his thoughts had drifted 
would have been a great astonishment, and per- 
haps not a pleasant one, for Lord Southborne, 
could he have realized what was happening. As 
it was, though there was a bond of real aff ection 
there had never been any very great sympathy 
between Carlingford and his father; their out- 
look lay so very far apart. Consternation 
reigned among the numerous Southborne estate 
officials when Lord Carlingford took up the 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


315 


management of his father’s varied and valuable 
interests. It had been the easiest matter in the 
world to hoodwink the older man; there was no 
possibility of doing anything but “ go straight ” 
with the younger. 

The condition of Lord Southborne’s health 
imposed on his son a greater responsibility than 
he would have assumed if there had been the 
faintest chance of the sick man being restored 
to something like his former powers; but to all 
intents and purposes Lord Southborne was a 
dead man, and so his son reigned in his stead. 

Those who had known Lord Carlingford a 
year or so before had to make new acquaintance 
with him now. He brought to bear his tactical 
and organizing knowledge — the fruits of his 
military education — upon the situation; corrup- 
tion was cut out with the knife, carelessness 
treated drastically ; if he could not put back what 
had been wasted and stolen, he could, at least, 
prevent further devastation and dishonesty, and 
this he was resolved upon doing. 

Even his mother did not recognize him in 
these days. She had always known that her hoy 
was thorough, that he never did things by halves ; 
she also knew that he could be obstinate, and 
that he had a strong will; but, like his father, she 
had never realized that there were elements in 
Carlingford that go to form a worker as well as 
a fighter. His broad views on those great and 
fundamental questions which always confront 
humanity would have shocked Lady Southborne, 


316 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


it is to be feared; but fortunately she was not 
called upon to discuss either political or ethical or 
psychological matters with Lord Carlingford. 
Her time was taken up in looking after her girls, 
writing innumerable letters, and sitting by the 
bedside of her helpless husband. Nevertheless, 
something of the change in all which surrounded 
her did creep by degrees to Lady Southborne. 
There seemed to be a briskness in the method of 
those who attended on her: one felt the existence 
of a master hand without perhaps being able to 
define exactly whence this mastership emanated. 

To Carlingford himself his new duties came 
as a godsend. Bertha Heronworth’s death, fol- 
lowing so swiftly on that miserable misunder- 
standing with Drusilla, had oppressed him pain- 
fully. He mourned for Bertha, but his sorrow 
for Drusilla outweighed all other feeling. In- 
deed, he had scarcely dared to let himself imag- 
ine how the girl would support this tragedy. Till 
that day when he and Connie Lingfield had met 
at Mr. Lethbridge’s office Carlingford had tor- 
mented himself with trying in vain to find the 
real meaning which lay below all that Drusilla 
had said to him that night at Crowder Chase. 
He had almost immediately realized that some- 
thing had been working in her heart which was 
influencing Drusilla most strangely. Her reck- 
less onslaught on her own character had been 
no natural or even hysterical statement; there 
had been so much deliberation in Dmsilla’s man- 
ner, too much composure (how that composure 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


317 


had wounded and startled him at the time!) ; the 
result of the quarrel had been determined before 
it had been begun. All this Carlingford had put 
together as facts that could not be controverted, 
but what he had failed to discover had been the 
reason for Drusilla’s determined resolution to 
put him out of her life. Connie’s few words had 
convinced him that something most potent and 
most hurtful formed the foundation for that 
reason; after that he could afford to wait. And 
the hope which ran like fire in his veins, illumined 
the days as they passed, gave back a zest to life, 
and put sunshine on the future. He wrote fre- 
quently to Connie, just a few words, giving per- 
haps a brief account of what was passing with 
him, but chiefly dealing with Drusilla. During 
her illness Connie had sent him daily news; once 
when he had been in town he had called. His 
constancy, his quiet refusal to relinquish his right 
to share Drusilla’s life, comforted the girl who 
was trying to fill Bertha’s place, and yet the nat- 
ural doubt was always there. Would this atti- 
tude last once Carlingford knew the truth? 

It was this doubt which flashed into Miss 
Lingfield’s mind the morning after Drusilla’s 
letter had been posted; this doubt which clung 
like a burr to her every thought throughout the 
day. And she was only too painfully conscious 
that it was a feeling shared by Drusilla. Hap- 
pily they had spent a busy and a fatiguing day. 
Catherine had remained in town till the evening, 
and Drusilla had been taken shopping. 


/ 


318 THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

“It seems I am a disgrace,” she had said to 
Connie in the morning; “Catherine has been 
overhauling my wardrobe, and saying awful 
things to herself.” 

“Z have been saying rude things about your 
clothes for a long time past, but I suppose I 
don’t count!” said Connie meekly. 

“ You are an angel and Catherine is not, that’s 
the whole truth. Clothes, except as a covering 
for my body, mean nothing to me now, Con- 
nie.” 

But Connie repudiated that suggestion. 

“Let us go together, and you shall choose a 
new hat for me, and I will decide on a new gown 
for you.” 

Drusilla found the shopping wearisome in the 
extreme, but at the same time she was grateful 
to Catherine for having suggested it. For, 
whilst her attention was being claimed every 
other moment, there was no opportunity for fall- 
ing into brooding thought. 

Later on, however, Catherine departed and 
dinner was served, and then the demon of agon- 
izing suspense and hot, proud fear took hold of 
her again. 

“ Oh! Connie! ” she said once, with a little pas- 
sionate outburst. “ Suppose he does not answer! 
Oh! I wish — I wish I had not written!” 

“ Stupid child!” said Connie. “Do you real- 
ize that your letter was posted very late last 
night? You could not possibly get an answer 
before to-morrow.” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 319 

“ I — I don’t believe there will be any answer,” 
Drusilla said faintly. 

But Connie laughed at this. 

“Wait till to-morrow morning!” 

And when the morning of the morrow dawned, 
Miss Lingfield stole early from her bedroom and 
went downstairs, wandering about the passages 
in her dressing-gown, and upsetting the maids at 
their work, whilst she waited for the postman to 
put Carlingford’s letter in the box. 

The postman came (the door was open and 
Miss Lingfield saw him pause and say a word to 
the scullery-maid who was cleaning the steps), 
but he gave no letters ; he passed on his way. 

“No letters — not one? Oh! there must be a 
mistake — there must be one letter! ” 

Miss Lingfield’s tone was so troubled the serv- 
ants looked at one another inquiringly. Connie 
was asking herself several miserable questions as 
she toiled wearily back to her room. 

“How shall I tell her? How shall I help 
bear this? Why — oh, why — has he not written 
one word? Why did he not write to me if he 
could not answer her letter?” 

At breakfast Drusilla met her with a smile; 
they did not speak about the letters. Only just 
when they were separating Connie said: 

“ You will get a telegram in a little while, dar- 
ling.” 

Drusilla shook her head. 

“I told you last night I felt there would be 
no answer,” she said, and then the colour flashed 


320 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


to her face. “All the same — I am not going to 
be mean or regret — anything, Connie — I have 
done what Beth wished me to do — that is going 
to content me.” 

It was Drusilla who was the brave one all 
through that day. So surely had Connie 
counted on the man’s fidelity that his silence now 
had something terribly cruel in it. 

It was pathetic to note how, now and again, 
she would volunteer some possible explanation 
for this silence. 

“Letters get lost in the post. I remember 
once dear father losing a most important letter 
he had written to a scientific friend in Paris.” 

Drusilla smiled at her so tenderly. 

“ Well, let us suppose my letter is lost and that 
will be better for everybody.” 

When dinner-time came round again Connie’s 
courage had fled; she could not eat anything. 

“ I never have headaches. Why should I have 
a headache now?” she asked wearily. 

“ I shall put you to bed at once,” said Drusilla, 
strength coming to her from the other’s weak- 
ness. 

But Connie was obstinate. 

“Not bed. I hate bed when — when there is 
something to worry about. Drusilla, do have 
some dinner, darling?” 

And Drusilla ate obediently; there was a hot 
anguish in her heart — a sense of suffering which 
was new and which made her eyes misty and her 
pulse low; but Connie’s suffering seemed greater 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


321 


than her own. This dear, good, loyal, devoted 
girl, who had sheltered her, and comforted her, 
and given her back something of what she had 
lost, she must be thought of now ! Self must be 
put in the background. So Drusilla ate and 
talked, and tried to make Connie believe that the 
silence was a matter which she could bear easily, 
and after dinner she took Connie into the draw- 
ing-room, and she massed the cushions comfort- 
ably on the couch, and then persuaded Connie 
to lie and rest. 

“ I know you don’t want to sleep, hut you look 
so white and tired; you must rest,” she ordered. 

And Connie made no protest. She was worn 
out for the moment; the tension had been too 
great. 

Drusilla made her very cosy, and then sat 
down in an arm-chair near at hand. 

“ I am going to read to you darling,” she said, 
and she opened one of the evening papers and 
did read for a little while. Then she stopped 
and paused, and, bending forward, she saw that 
Connie’s eyes were closed tranquilly, and that 
sleep had stolen on her unawares. 

“ She is tired out, dear soul!” Drusilla said to 
herself. She rose softly and in the quietest 
manner dropped some coal on the fire. Though 
spring was drifting into touch with early sum- 
mer it was chilly in the evenings and a fire was 
agreeable. 

Then she sat down again and looked at the 
clock. 


322 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 


“At a quarter past nine the postman will 
come, but — I am sure he will pass.” 

She caught the sound of the double knock on a 
door some little distance away. Even as this 
thought came, twice again she heard that cheery 
“ Rap, rap,” and then Drusilla rose very gently 
and crossed the room. Her ear had caught an- 
other sound — the jingle of harness, the noise 
of a cab pulling up. 

She opened the door, but she did not go out; 
instead she drew back and stood leaning against 
the wall just inside. There was a little pause 
and then she heard voices. The next moment 
she heard the rustle of Bates’ skirts; the maid 
was coming up the stairs, and she was followed 
by some one. 

Drusilla came out of the shadows and stood in 
the doorway. She did not wait to hear him an- 
nounced. 

“ Jim!” she said. 

And Carlingford pushed the maid aside and 
took her in his arms. 

He did not kiss her, he just held her tightly, 
yet tenderly, as one holds a child. 

Then they went into the room, and with the 
door shut, they stood again in a silence that was 
so exquisite neither dared break it. 

But as he released her to look at her Drusilla 
spoke in a whisper : 

“Connie has fallen asleep; she is worn out. 
She thought you would have written, and when 
no letter came ” 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 323 

“ And you? ” questioned Carlingford. “ What 
did you think?” 

“I was afraid, Jim.” 

“Afraid, dear one?” 

“Yes, afraid that you would not answer or 
come.” 

He smiled. 

“I have been travelling all day. I reached 
Yorkshire this afternoon about four, and found 
your letter. I left again immediately by motor 
for Leeds — just caught the quick train up, and 
never remembered till I was in the express that I 
had forgotten to telegraph to say I was on my 
road. My one and only thought was to get to 
you as soon as I could.” 

Drusilla drew him towards the fire, warning 
him to move softly ; their eyes met and then their 
hands, and the man stooped and kissed those two 
small transparent-looking hands. 

“ No,” he said in a whisper, “ there must be no 
questions — no going into the past; at least, not 
now. We are together again ; that is enough ! ” 

His kisses were on her lips now; then he kissed 
the tears away from her eyes and then Drusilla 
put her hand on his lips and stopped the kisses. 
With a little laugh she went to the couch and bent 
over it. 

“Connie, wake up!” she said. “Jim has 
come!” 

A few days later Drusilla wrote a letter. It 
was addressed to Brian Keston, and it ran: 


324 > THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 

“Dear Mr. Preacher: 

“Because I am a very vain individual, and 
because I must stand well in the eyes of those 
who are my friends, I am scribbling you a few 
words to let you know that the words of your 
wisdom did not fall on stony ground. You were 
just a little hard on my poor resolutions. They 
were meant to be very good, brave, real, living 
resolutions, and if they failed, they are not to 
blame. The person to blame is me! If I had 
possessed the proper strength to carry things 
through I should not be writing to you now; but 
you knew me better than I knew myself! A long, 
long time ago you showed me what you thought 
of my definition of duty. Well, it is foolish, I 
suppose, to fight against one’s nature; and yet 
deep down in my heart I still believe that my poor 
little abused resolutions were right, and that your 
views (which happen to coincide with everybody 
else’s) are to a great extent wrong. This does 
not mean that I want to go back and pick them 
up again; far from it! I am full of magnificent 
impulses and noble sentiments, but the impulse 
dies once it is cold, and the noble sentiments end 
in one long wail for happiness — happiness — hap- 
piness at any price. The simple truth is I must 
live in the sunshine and I must be loved; but I 
also wish to be respected, and that is why I am 
yearning to have you pat me on the back and 
commend me highly because I have obtained my 
heart’s desire, and I call it doing my duty! 


THE LAUGHTER OF LIFE 325 

“ Connie and I are going to Yorkshire to stay 
with Lady Southborne, but we shall be back here 
in a month’s time. Perhaps then you might be 
able to come and see us? 

“D. H ” 

P. S . — Tell me, you who are so wise and who 
understand so well those things which are so 
hard to learn, do you think my happiness will 
make Beth glad?” 


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1908 


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